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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 

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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


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FIRESIDE  FAIRIES 


OR 


CHRISTMAS  AT   AUNT  ELSIE'S. 


BY 


SUSAN    PINDAR. 


NEW-YORK: 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 

PHILADELPHIA  : 
GEO.  S.  APPLETON,  164  CHESNUT-ST. 

1850. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849,  by 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New-York. 


Library,  Univ.  of 
North  Carolina 

PREFACE. 


"  Home  truths  in  strange  dresses  "  would,  perhaps, 
be  an  appropriate  title  for  this  unobtrusive  volume, 
which,  it  is  hoped  will  meet  the  approbation  of  the 
"  little  people"  for  whom  it  is  expressly  designed. 

There  exists,  in  the  minds  of  some  parents,  a 
strong  and  reasonable  prejudice  against  Fairy  Tales 
for  children ;  as  the  extravagant  imagery  and  im- 
probable incidents,  in  which  they  generally  abound, 
often  mislead  or  bewilder  the  youthful  imagination. 
But  it  is  hoped  this  little  book  may  escape  such 
censure. 

The  mind  of  a  child  is  easily  impressible  through 
the  medium  of  fancy;  and  this  humble  attempt  to 
deck  familiar,  yet  important  truths,  and  the  home 
duties  of  every-day  life,  in  the  drapery  of  fairy  land, 


D  PREFACE. 

may,  perhaps,  serve  to  awaken  a  reasoning  thought^ 
leading  ultimately  to  an  active  principle. 

If  so,  the  mission  of  this  little  volume  is  fulfilled. 
It  is  too  humble  to  provoke  criticism ;  and  only  seeks 
a  welcome  from  those  earthly  "Fireside  Fairies," 
whose  instruction  and  entertainment  have  been  its 
highest  aim. 


CONTENTS. 

The  Two  Voices,  or  the  Shadow  and  Shadowless      .  18 

The  Minute  Fairies 40 

I  Have  and  Oh  Had  I 64 

The  Hump  and  the  Long  Nose         ....  83 
The  Lily  Fairy  and  the  Silver  Beam        .        .         .108 

The  Wonderful  Watch 128 

The  Red  and  White  Rose  Trees         ....  147 

The  Diamond  Fountain 178 

The  Magical  Key 189 

Conclusion  .        . 200 


FIRESIDE   FAIRIES 


CHAPTER  I. 


Yes,  they  had  come  at  last ;  the  merry  Christmas 
holidays  !  and  little  hearts  were  beating  high,  and 
bright  eyes  growing  brighter,  in  anticipation  of  enjoy- 
ment to  come, — of  many  days  free  from  the  wearisome 
bondage  of  tasks,  and  recitations, — a  perfect  vista  of 
light  and  happiness. 

Christmas  Holidays  !  magical  words !  the  syllables 
chime  together  like  the  tinkle  of  a  merry  sleigh-bell, 
and  the  very  letters  seem  the  types  of  fun  and 
frolic. 

And  they  had  actually  arrived ; — of  that  you  might 
have  assured  yourself,  had  you  peeped  into  Aunt 
Elsie's  large  old-fashioned  parlor,  and  seen  the  merry 
group  assembled  there  around  the  great  open  fireplace, 
in  which  a  huge  Christmas  log  (so  big  that  it  seemed 


10  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

miraculous  how  it  was  ever  carried  and  deposited 
there)  was  blazing,  with  a  steady  flame,  while  the 
younger  and  smaller  branches  went  crackling,  and 
shooting  up  their  slender  spears  of  light,  and  alto- 
gether casting  a  ruddy  glow  throughout  the  room, 
illuminating  the  happy  faces  grouped  therein. 

Every  few  moments  a  chesnut,  bursting  with  im- 
patience from  its  bed  among  the  embers,  would  pop 
out  on  the  broad  hearthstone,  and  then  such  jump- 
ing and  scrabbling  ensued,  with  shouts  of  merry 
laughter,  as  was  delightful  to  witness,  and  which  Aunt 
Elsie  seemed  heartily  to  enjoy. 

Never  was  there  such  a  place  to  spend  the  holi- 
days as  at  Aunt  Elsie's,  nor  such  a  priestess  to  pre- 
side over  the  festivities  as  Aunt  Elsie  herself.  She 
was  a  widow,  and  childless,  her  children  having  all 
died  in  infancy,  and  her  warm  love  seemed  ever  over- 
flowing towards  all  created  things  ;  but  more  espe- 
cially went  it  forth  to  the  " little  people,"  as  she 
loved  to  call  the  groups  of  children  that  clustered 
about  her. 

She  was  aunt  to  every  child  for  miles  around,  and 
never  was  the  tie  of  relationship  stronger  than  the 
bond  of  love  that  united  Aunt  Elsie  to  her  proteges. 
All  their  tales  of  troubles  were  poured  into  her  sym- 
pathizing ear,  with  the  certainty  of  receiving  good 
advice  and  real  assistance.     Every  project  for  a  frolic 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  11 


was  confided  to  her,  sure  to  be  encouraged  if  harm- 
less, or  dissuaded  from  if  mischievous  or  hurtful. 

But  while  all  obedient  children  were  favorites, 
more  especially  did  the  orphans  or  destitute  interest 
her  love;  and  for  these  she  had  more  substantial  be- 
nefits in  store  than  the  distribution  of  holiday  gifts  or 
other  kindnesses  shared  with  the  happy  and  fortunate 
children  of  kind  parents.  Many  little  friendless  ones 
owed  their  instruction  and  the  means  of  honorable 
support  to  Aunt  Elsie's  benevolence ;  and  it  was  plea- 
sant to  see  how  many  young  people,  grown  to  matu- 
rity, used  to  visit  her,  for  her  ever  judicious  and  kind 
counsel ;  and  were  proud  to  acknowledge  her  as  their 
first  and  truest  friend. 

An  invitation  to  Aunt  Elsie's  to  spend  the  holi- 
days, was  a  reward  eagerly  sought  for  and  highly 
prized ;  none  were  asked  whose  conduct  during  the 
year  had  not  been  marked  with  some  sign  of  improve- 
ment ;  and  no  other  incentive  was  necessary  to  awaken 
the  most  strenuous  endeavors. 

Dear  good  Aunt  Elsie !  no  wonder  the  children 
loved  to  visit  her :  such  piles  of  dough-nuts  and  krol- 
lers,  such  baskets  of  apples  and  bags  of  nuts  were 
provided  for  their  entertainment !  to  say  nothing  of 
the  mince  pies  and  little  cranberry  tarts,  with  the  ini- 
tial of  each  name  cut  from  the  crust  and  baked  on  the 
top,  or  the  delicious  plum  pudding,  of  which  they 


12  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

were  allowed  to  partake  in  moderation  on  Christmas 
Day,  after  they  had  done  ample  justice  to  the  enor- 
mous turkey,  fatted  on  purpose,  and  whose  immense 
bulk  was  the  wonderment  of  young  eyes. 

But  good  cheer  was  not  the  only  pleasure  to  he 
enjoyed.  Aunt  Elsie  was  not  troubled  with  nervous 
headaches ;  she  liked  the  little  folks  to  enjoy  themselves 
in  their  own  way,  but  without  rudeness,  and  the  loud- 
est laugh  and  merriest  shout  never  called  forth  a  re- 
primand. There  was  a  fine  sloping  hill  at  the  back 
of  the  house,  down  which  the  sleds  ran  famously,  and 
a  large  pond  at  the  side  for  skating.  Then,  for  in- 
door amusements,  there  was  a  great  upper  room,  nearly 
the  whole  width  of  the  house,  containing  a  swing  and 
a  hammock,  formerly  belonging  to  Aunt  Elsie's  bro- 
ther ;  and  every  one  was  at  liberty  to  bring  what  they 
pleased  to  contribute  to  the  general  enjoyment.  In 
the  evening  they  all  congregated  in  the  parlor,  and 
never  was  there  a  parlor  better  suited  for  the  purpose 
than  Aunt  Elsie's. 

It  was  a  large  room,  as  I  have  said,  with  rather  a 
low  ceiling,  and  four  windows  (for  it  was  a  corner 
room),  well  protected  from  the  cold  and  storm  by 
thick  wooden  shutters ;  and  if  a  prying  gust  should 
insinuate  itself  between  the  chinks,  it  was  prevented 
entering  the  apartment  by  the  heavy  curtains  of  crim- 
son moreen  that  fell  in  great  folds  to  the  floor,  and 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  13 

behind  whose  ruddy  screen  the  chilly  little  gust  was 
soon  converted  into  a  genial  atmosphere. 

What  fine  places  the  thick  folds  of  those  curtains 
were  for  pinning  handkerchiefs  in  the  game  of  "  hot 
buttered  blue  beans  ;"  and  the  deep  window  seats 
made  convenient  hiding-places  in  the  game  of  "  hide 
and  go  seek."  And  though  there  were  plenty  of  high- 
backed  walnut  chairs  with  stuffed  seats,  and  low  otto- 
mans with  faded  embroidered  covers,  and  two  old- 
fashioned  couches,  there  was  still  enough  of  room  for 
a  game  of  "  blindman's  buff,"  without  risk  of  a  black 
eye  or  bruised  ankle  against  obtrusive  furniture. 

There  was  an  antique  piano,  quite  tunable  enough 
for  a  country-dance  or  Virginia  reel,  and  not  suf- 
ficiently good  to  be  ruined  by  indifferent  performers. 
Then  there  were  small  work-stands,  and  a  large  centre 
table,  covered  with  amusing  and  instructive  games 
and  pictures,  and  all  sorts  of  materials  for  fancy 
knitting  and  embroideries  ;  besides,  a  large  and  well- 
filled  bookcase,  for  those  who  preferred  a  quiet  enjoy- 
ment. The  walls  were  hung  with  portraits  of  Aunt 
Elsie's  family :  shepherdesses  in  hoops  and  fardingales, 
and  demure  gentlemen  in  powdered  hair  and  knee- 
buckles,  all  smiling  benignly  on  the  merry  group  be- 
neath them,  while  they  seemed  to  flourish  in  a  green 
old  age,  being  completely  embowered  in  Christmas 
greens,  with  which  the  frames  were  wreathed.  The 
2 


14  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

high  China  jars  on  the  mantelpiece  were  filled  with 
bunches  of  laurel,  box  and  cedar,  intermixed  with  the 
bright  berries  of  the  mountain  ash  and  winter-green, 
and  graceful  festoons  adorned  the  doorway  and  win- 
dows. What  a  cheerful  friendly  room  it  was,  to  be 
sure  !  of  all  places  to  pass  the  Christmas  holidays, 
commend  me  to  Aunt  Elsie's,  at  Woodleigh. 

Never  was  there  a  happier  party  of  children  than 
those  now  assembled  in  that  cozy,  old-fashioned  parlor. 
There  was  little  Norah  Graham  and  her  brother  Wil- 
lie, and  Lucy  and  Mary  Parker,  fine  intelligent  girls 
of  ten  and  twelve ;  and  Harry  Wilder,  with  his  bro- 
ther George,  and  cousins  Grace  and  Clara ;  besides 
the  orphans,  Frank  Field  and  his  sweet  sister,  Lilias ; 
little  pet  Lily,  the  darling  of  Aunt  Elsie,  and  the  de- 
light of  all.  There  was  Bertha  Carrol,  the  countess, 
as  her  companions  called  her,  a  stately  girl  just  enter- 
ing her  fifteenth  year,  and  her  two  younger  brothers, 
Charles  and  Ernest,  frank,  joyous-hearted  boys.  These, 
with  the  gentle  sisters  Jessie  and  May  Lester,  com- 
pleted the  group,  who  were  spending  their  holidays 
entirely  at  Aunt  Elsie's. 

Other  visitors  there  were  in  plenty,  but  they  spent 
a  day  or  evening  only  with  them,  having  other  engage- 
ments to  fulfil.  As  I  have  said  that  non£  but  good 
children  were  invited  to  Aunt  Elsie's,  of  course  all 
the  members  of  the  party  deserved  this  commenda- 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  15 

tion  ;  but  each  one  possessed  different  traits  of  charac- 
ter, which  were  constantly  elicited  by  the  close  asso- 
ciation with. others,  as  sparks  are  brought  out  by  the 
contact  of  flint  and  steel.  They  had  their  faults  too, 
but  perhaps  the  certainty  that  a  dismissal  from  Aunt 
Elsie's  festivities  would  immediately  follow  every  fla- 
grant act  of  bad  behavior,  acted  as  a  restraint,  and 
kept  them  pleasantly  united.  Aunt  Elsie  sat  in  her 
high-backed  chair,  at  the  corner  of  the  fireplace,  knit- 
ting away,  occasionally  offering  some  suggestions  as 
to  the  games  in  progress,  and  smiling  kindly  on  all ; 
giving  sly  hints  as  to  the  best  places  for  hiding  the 
handkerchief,  and  taking  a  lively  interest  in  the  sports 
about  her. 

"  What  are  you  poring  over  there  ?"  asked  Clara 
Wilder  of  her  cousin  George,  as  she  stopped  to  gain 
breath  after  a  hearty  game  of  blindman's  buff,  and 
looking  over  his  shoulder  as  she  spoke. 

11  It  is  a  fairy  book,  and  I  have  just  finished  it," 
he  answered,  closing  it  as  he  spoke.  "  I  do  love  fairy 
stories  better  than  any  thing  in  the  world  ;  when  I 
get  a  library  it  shall  be  filled  with  them." 

"  Before  you  get  a  library  you  will  have  lost  your 
relish  for  fairy  tales,"  said  Lucy  Parker,  laughing ; 
"  but  they  are  delightful,  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever 
tire  of  the  Arabian  Nights." 

"Nor  I !  nor  I !"  cried  half  a  dozen  voices. 


16  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  voyages  of  Sindbad,  the 
sailor,"  asked  Charles  Carrol ;  "  I  like  those  the 
best." 

"  Not  better  than  the  story  about  the  magic  horse, 
all  made  of  ebony  and  ivory,  that  could  fly  all  over," 
chimed  in  little  Lily. 

"  They  are  all  beautiful,"  said  Jessie  Lester ;  and 
forthwith  the  little  group  clustered  together  and 
began  discussing  the  merits  of  their  favorite  tales, 
for  each  seemed  to  have  learned  the  Thousand  and 
one  Nights  by  heart. 

"  Heigho  !  I  wish  fairies  were  in  fashion  yet,"  ex- 
claimed Harry  Wilder ;  "  nothing  wonderful  ever 
happens  now-a-days  ;  only  think  how  delightful  it 
would  be  to  have  a  wishing  cap,  by  which  one  could 
get  all  he  desired." 

"  Or  to  have  guardian  fairies,"  said  May  Lester, 
"  to  prompt  you  to  do  right  always." 

"  Every  one  has  a  guardian  fairy  of  that  kind,  I 
think,"  said  Aunt  Elsie. 

"  A  guardian  fairy  !"  exclaimed  many  voices. 

"  I  know  what  Aunt  Elsie  means,  it  is  conscience," 
said  May. 

"  There  is  a  beautiful  Eastern  legend,"  said  Aunt 
Elsie,  "  which  runs  thus  :" 

"  Every  man  has  two  attendant  angels,  one  on 
either  shoulder.     "Whenever  he  does  a  good  action 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  17 

the  angel  on  the  right  records  and  seals  it,  because 
a  thing  once  well  done  is  finished  for  ever.  When  he 
commits  an  evil  deed,  the  angel  on  his  left  writes  it 
down  also,  but  he  does  not  seal  it;  and  if,  before 
midnight  the  offender  cries,  '  Allah  forgive  me  !'  the 
angel  drops  a  tear  of  joy  upon  the  words  and  effaces 
them." 

"  What  a  lovely  story,"  cried  the  children. 

"  I  have  often  felt,"  said  Mary  Parker,  "  as  if  a 
voice  whispered  me  when  to  do  right." 

"  Yes ;  and  when  I  commit  a  great  fault,  that 
voice  seems  to  speak  to  me  in  tones  like  thunder," 
replied  Ernest. 

"Yet  this  is  only  the  still  small  voice  of  con- 
science, murmuring  in  your  heart,"  answered  Aunt 
Elsie.  "  How  wonderful  is  the  power  that  spirit 
voice  possesses ;  and  how  humbly  should  we  listen  to 
its  lightest  tone  !  It  is  indeed  a  monitor  that  should 
never  be  disregarded.  And  now,  my  dear  children, 
since  you  are  in  the  humor  for  fairy  tales,  I  will,  if 
you  choose,  read  one  out  of  an  old  manuscript,  which 
has  for  many  years  been  stored  away  in  my  bookcase. 
I  cannot  promise  it  will  be  as  delightful  as  the  Arabian 
Nights,  but  it  has,  at  least,  a  moral  which  I  will 
leave  to  your  ingenuity  to  discover." 

A  general  burst  of  delight  followed  this  proposal, 

and  the  elder  girls,  taking  up  their  knitting,  seated 

2* 


18  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

themselves  at  the  table,  while  the  boys  gathered  in  a 
corner,  and  the  little  children,  hugging  up  their  dolls 
in  their  arms,  drew  their  chairs  to  the  fire.  Aunt 
Elsie,  in  the  meantime  took  from  the  upper  shelf  of 
her  bookcase  an  old  portfolio,  and  selecting  one  from 
the  numerous  manuscripts  it  contained,  deliberately 
put  on  her  glasses,  and  read  the  story  of 


OR  THE  SHADOW  AND  THE  SHADOWLESS. 

In  a  certain  small  village,  there  lived  a  very  poor 
man,  a  basket-maker,  named  Hans.  He  lived  quite 
alone  in  a  mean  little  hut,  which  was  his  only  in- 
heritance. He  had  no  wife  nor  children  to  comfort 
him,  for  he  was  too  poor  to  marry,  and  he  had  for 
many  years  supported  his  infirm  and  bed-ridden 
mother.  She  was  now  dead,  and  though  Hans  was 
no  longer  obliged  to  toil  for  her  support,  yet  he 
missed  her  very  much,  and  felt  miserably  lonely, 
working  day  after  day,  without  a  soul  to  speak  to, 
unless  by  chance  a  straggling  villager  should  stop  at 
the  door  to  exchange  a  word  with  him.  But  his 
mother  had  taught  him  to  be  industrious,  and  con- 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  19 

tented,  so  he  worked  steadily  on,  though  he  scarcely 
earned  enough  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door. 

Hans  might  have  grown  old  and  gray  in  the  midst 
of  his  humble  labors,  without  indulging  any  vain 
longings  for  a  better  condition,  if  he  had  not  had  the 
misfortune  to  see  the  miller's  pretty  daughter,  who 
smiled  kindly  on  him,  and  so  set  him  to  thinking  how 
happy  he  should  be,  if  he  had  but  her  bright  eyes 
and  pleasant  voice  to  cheer  his  lonely  home.  But 
Hans  knew  full  well  that  he  could  hardly  support 
himself,  and  what  then  could  he  do  with  a  wife  ?  So 
he  was  obliged  to  see  the  miller's  daughter  walk  to 
church  with  rich  farmer  Trenck,  while  he  had  to  keep 
indoors  on  account  of  his  ragged  coat.  This  state  of 
things  made  poor  Hans  very  unhappy. 

"I  am  as  comely  and  young  as  farmer  Trenck," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  and  if  I  only  had  money,  there 
is  no  telling  what  might  happen."  Then  he  fell  to 
thinking  how  he  should  obtain  the  gold  he  so  much 
coveted ;  and  these  thoughts  kept  him  awake  "at  night 
when  he  should  have  been  sleeping,  and  made  him 
sit,  idly  twisting  the  rushes  through  the  day,  when 
he  ought  to  have  been  working. 

It  so  happened  one  day  when  Hans  went  out  to 
cut  some  rushes  for  his  baskets,  that  as  he  stooped 
down,  with  his  knife  in  his  hand,  he  saw  a  leather 
wallet  lying  among  the  reeds.     He  dropped  his  knife 


20  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

and  seized  the  wallet.  It  was  very  heavy,  and  as  he 
turned  it  over  in  his  hand,  a  bright  gold  piece  rolled 
out  upon  his  palm.  Hans  felt  as  if  his  heart  had 
stopped  beating.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  be  sure  he 
was  not  dreaming,  and  then  looked  round  to  see  if 
any  one  was  near.  But  nobody  was  in  sight,  and 
Hans,  sitting  down  on  a  green  bank,  counted  out  the 
bright  gold  pieces,  one  by  one,  and  then  dropped 
them  again  into  the  leathern  bag,  thinking  all  the 
time  that  the  chink  of  the  precious  metal  was  the 
sweetest  music  he  had  ever  heard. 

There  were  ninety-one  gold  pieces  in  the  wallet, 
and  as  Hans,  after  satisfying  himself  twenty  times 
by  counting  them  over  and  over,  finally  tied  the 
string  tightly  about  the  bag,  he  heard  a  delicate 
little  voice  close  to  his  ear  say : 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  money, 
Hans?" 

Poor  Hans  started  up  in  affright,  for  he  thought 
that  some  one  had  been  watching  him  all  the  time. 
He  looked  all  around  but  could  see  nothing,  when 
again  the  voice  repeated : 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  money,  Hans? 
it  is  not  yours." 

Again  Hans  looked  about  him,  and  now  he  saw, 
seated  on  his  right  shoulder,  a  small  but  beautiful 
creature,  with  silver  wings,  and  bearing  a  star  on  its 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  21 

forehead,  which  cast"  a  bright  radiance  all  around. 
Before  he  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  so  as  to 
reply  to  the  question  the  tiny  figure  had  twice  asked, 
another  voice,  very  unlike  the  first,  and  sounding  as 
if  it  came  through  a  brazen  tube,  answered  for  him : 

"  Hans  will  keep  the  money,  to  be  sure  ;  he  found 
it,  and  it  is  his." 

"He  has  no  right  to  keep  what  belongs  to  an- 
other," answered  the  silver  voice. 

"How  does  he  know  the  real  owner?"  said  the 
brazen  voice ;  "  whoever  dropped  it  considers  it  lost. 
Hans  is  a  poor  man,  and  this  is  a  piece  of  good  luck 
which  he  ought  not  to  throw  away." 

While  this  dialogue  was  going  on,  Hans,  looking 
towards  his  left  shoulder,  beheld  a  small  dark  form, 
enveloped  in  a  sort  of  dazzling  haze  that  prevented 
him  from  seeing  its  outline  with  distinctness.  This 
was  not  a  silvery  light,  such  as  emanated  from  the 
spirit  of  the  silver  voice,  but  a  sort  of  lurid  glare, 
like  the  reflection  from  molten  copper.  Yet  there 
was  something  strangely  fascinating  in  its  brightness, 
which  tempted  one  to  look  again.  Hans  at  last  mus- 
tered courage  to  speak : 

"  Who  are  ye  both,  that  thus  dispute  about  my 
iffairs  V  he  asked. 

"  I  am  the  voice  of  the  Shadowless ;  whoso  follow- 
3th  my  advice  shall  never  commit  sin  or  know  de- 


22  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

spair ;"  answered  the  star-crowned  figure  on  his  right 
shoulder. 

"  And  men  call  me  the  voice  of  the  Shadow," 
replied  the  brazen  tone,  with  a  harsh  laugh ;  "  whoso 
followeth  me,  shall  have  riches  in  plenty,  and  a  life 
of  joy." 

Hans  cast  down  his  eyes  in  thought,  and  there, 
on  the  greensward,  rested  the  shadow  of  the  brazen 
one,  a  dark,  unshapely  thing,  portraying  his  true 
form  divested  of  the  dazzling  glare  that  surrounded 
it,  and  twice  the  size  of  the  figure  itself.  Hans 
started  and  trembled.  There  was  no  shadow  near 
the  figure  on  his  right,  but  a  soft  light  like  a  reflected 
moonbeam  lay  shimmering  on  the  grass,  the  reflection 
of  her  silver  wings. 

"  Pooh,  pooh*  man,  never  be  afraid  of  a  shadow," 
said  the  brazen  tone,  jeeringly;  "that  is  the  best 
proof  you  can  have  that  I  am  a  real,  tangible  being, 
and  ready  to  serve  you.  The  words  of  the  Shadow- 
less are  all  very  well  for  ordinary  occasions,  but  at  a 
time  like  this  listen  to  me." 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  the  wallet  ?"  asked  Hans ; 
"  I  don't  want  to  keep  it,  if  it  is  dishonest.  I  could 
not  bear  to  be  a  thief." 

"  Never  call  yourself  hard  names,"  answered  the 
brazen  tone.  "  The  act  of  finding,  and  of  stealing, 
are  two  very  different  things.     The  facts  are  these : 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  23 

Somebody  loses  a  purse — you  are  fortunate  enough 
to  find  it ;  therefore  it  is  your  own,  of  course,  to  do 
with  as  you  like." 

"  Not  so,"  interrupted  the  Shadowless.  "  The 
money  must  have  a  proper  owner ;  it  is  the  duty  of 
Hans  to  discover  him,  if  possible,  and  restore  it  to 
him ;  that  is  what  he  will  do,  as  an  honest  man." 

Hans  winced  at  these  words ;  and  the  Shadow, 
seeming  to  perceive  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  replied, 

"  "Well,  there  is,  at  least,  no  harm  in  Hans  taking 
the  wallet  home  with  him,  and  thinking  it  over  a 
while ;  it  will  be  much  safer  in  his  chest  than  lying 
out  here  in  the  reeds." 

This  suggestion  pleased  Hans ;  but  the  Shadow- 
less spoke : 

f  Do  not  listen  to  the  tempter,  Hans,  but  take  the 
money  at  once  to  the  justice,  and  tell  him  all  about 
it.  If  once  within  your  grasp,  you  know  not  to  what 
you  may  be  tempted — perhaps  even  to  steal." 

Hans  was  offended  at  this  implied  doubt  of  his 
strength ;  so  he  said,  angrily,  "  Do  you  think  me  a 
child,  that  I  cannot  be  trusted  ?  I  choose  to  take  the 
wallet  with  me,  and  I  will." 

"  Hans  !  Hans  !"  murmured  the  silver  voice,  im- 
ploringly, "  drive  me  not  from  you,  by  wilful  obsti- 
nacy ;  know  me  as  your  true  friend,  and  trust  me, 
all  will  be  well  at  the  last." 


24  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

A  pang  went  through  the  heart  of  Hans  at  these 
words ;  and  he  was  just  about  yielding,  when  the 
Shadow  interposed. 

"  How  childish  your  fears  are,"  he  said.  "  "What ! 
afraid  to  trust  yourself  one  night  with  a  little  bag  of 
gold  ?  I  thought  you  were  more  of  a  man.  Suppose 
you  had  not  found  the  wallet  to-day,  it  would  have 
laid  among  the  reeds  all  night.  Is  it  not,  in  reality, 
much  safer  with  you  ?  you  can  carry  it  to  the  justice 
to-morrow." 

These  specious  words  decided  Hans,  and  the  soft, 
imploring  voice  of  the  Shadowless  was  no  longer 
heeded.  He  arose,  and  went  towards  his  home,  at- 
tended by  the  voice  of  the  Shadow,  who  kept  sour.d- 
ing  in  his  ear  the  praises  of  his  manliness  i  ad 
strength. 

Hans  observed  that  the  shadow  on  the  green- 
sward was  larger  than  before,  and  he  thought  it 
obscured  the  sunlight ;  but  the  voice  of  flattery 
sounded  sweet  in  his  ear,  and  the  lurid  light  hover- 
ing on  his  shoulder  dazzled  him;  and  so  he  went 
on,  not  heeding  that  the  shimmering  light  had  gone 
from  his  pathway,  and  that  the  star-crowned  form  sat 
drooping,  dimmed,  and  silent. 

When  Hans  arrived  at  his  cottage,  he  carefully 
barred  the  door,  a  precaution  he  had  never  before 
thought  of  using ;  and  then  once  more  spread  the 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  25 

flittering  pieces  out  upon  the  board  before  him,  and 
^ounted  them,  one  by  one. 

"  There  are  just  ninety-one  pieces,"  suggested  the 
Shadow;  "one  piece  would  buy  a  new  coat;  don't 
fou  think  you  deserve  something  for  finding  the  wal- 
let, Hans  ?" 

j  Hans  listened,  but  said  nothing :  he  was  thinking 
■hat  if  he  had  a  new  coat,  he  might  walk  to  church 
;'ith  the  miller's  pretty  daughter;  but  the  people 
-ould  wonder  where  he  got  a  new  coat.  It  seemed 
ii  if  the  Shadow  knew  his  thoughts,  for  it  went  on  : 
(  "  You  might  go.  to  the  town,  you  know,  and  per- 
;aps  there  might  be  something  owing  you ;— who 
jqows?  The  coat  is  bought  with  money  owed  to 
!bu,  eh,  Hans  ?  And  then,  on  Sunday,  when  farmer 
renck  comes  along,  he  will  have  to  stand  one  side  ;— 
jid  look,  now,  there  comes  the  miller's  pretty  daugh- 
ijr !" 

(   Hans  looked  up,  and  there  she  went,  sure  enough, 
okmg  more  blooming  than  ever. 
t|  "  You  can  replace  the  piece  when  you  earn  it,  and 
nitore  the  wallet  then;    no  one  knows  when  you 
'and  it,"  said  the  Shadow. 

Hans  sighed  heavily  ;  then  he  took  up  the  bright 
#es  and  dropped  them  in  the  bag,  all  save  one  ; 
rit  he  left  upon  the  table. 

?  u  Thou   shalt   not   steal,"   murmured   the   silver 
3 


26  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

voice,  but  now  the  tone  was  faint  as  a  dying  echo ; 
and  the  brazen  tone  drowned  it  at  once  with  a  loud 
laugh,  and  the  inquiry, 

"  Who  talks  of  stealing  ?  Hans  borrows  the  piece 
awhile,  and  hurts  no  one  by  it." 

It  was  now  dark,  and  Hans  threw  himself  on  the 
bed,  after  carefully  locking  up  the  bag  in  his  chest. 
and  hiding  the  one  piece  beneath  his  pillow.  His 
sleep  was  restless  and  disturbed ;  and  early  the 
next  morning,  unrefreshed,  but  determined,  and  noi 
daring  to  question  himself,  he  arose,  took  the  gold 
piece,  and  hastened  away  to  the  adjoining  town. 

It  seemed  to  Hans  that  a  dark  pall  was  thrown 
over  every  thing,  and  the  shadow  that  was  flung  on 
the  ground  at  his  side  increased  as  he  went ;  but  the 
voice  of  the  Shadow  never  ceased  urging  him  on,  and 
the  Shadowless  was  silent  and  dim. 

The  tailor,  who  knew  Hans  well,  looked  surprised 
when  Hans  offered  the  piece  of  gold,  but  he  believed 
him  when  he  said  it  was  money  long  owed  him  ;  and 
having  fitted  him  a  handsome  coat,  with  bright  but- 
tons, handsomer  even  than  farmer  Trench's,  Hans; 
with  his  purchase,  turned  towards  his  home. 

The  morrow  was  Sunday,  and  the  voice  of  the 
Shadow  whispered  of  triumph  in  the  new  coatj 
but,  despite  all  he  could  say,  the  dark  pall  seeme<j 
thrown  over  all  things,  and  the  fearful  shadow  on  tha 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  27 

grass  increased  fearfully,  while  ever  and  anon  the  sil- 
ver voice  of  the  Shadowless  murmured,  "  Hans,  art 
thou  doing  well  ?"  until  at  last,  in  an  almost  agony,  he 
reached  his  home,  and,  not  daring  to  look  at  his  new 
coat,  he  threw  himself  on  his  bench.  The  rushes  lay 
scattered  about  him,  and  a  basket,  unfinished,  was 
near  ;  but  work  he  could  not ;  a  gloom  filled  the  cot- 
tage, and  the  dark  Shadow  lay  crouched  at  his  feet. 

Thus  the  day  wore  on  unheeded  by  Hans,  who, 
alternately  listening  to  the  brazen  tone,  with  some- 
thing akin  to  confidence,  and  oppressed  by  the  spell 
that  bound  him,  sat  listlessly  twisting  the  rushes  be- 
tween his  fingers,  when  a  neighbor  suddenly  stopped 
at  the  door,  and  cried: 

"  Hast  heard  the  news,  Hans  ?  the  miller  was 
robbed  the  night  before  last,  when  coming  from 
market ;  he  was  knocked  down  and  his  wallet  taken 
from  him,  before  his  two  men  came  up';  the  robbers 
fled,  and  he  has  posted  a  reward  for  the  thief.  It 
was  a  great  loss,  of  a  certainty;  ninety-one  heavy 
pieces  ;  a  fortune  for  a  poor  man,  Hans." 

Hans  sat  motionless,  and  the  neighbor  supposing 
him  busy,  and  unwilling  to  gossip,  passed  on.  Hour 
after  hour  wore  away,  and  Hans  sat  gazing  on  the 
wall,  when  the  voice  of  the  Shadow  roused  him: 
"  Come,  Hans,  be  a  man,"  it  said,  confidently  ;  "  it  is  all 
or  nothing  now ;  no  one  will  ever  suspect  you  of  hav- 


28  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

ing  the  money.  If  the  robber  is  caught,  so  much 
the  better.  I  suppose  he  flung  the  wallet  aside,  for 
fear  of  detection,  meaning  to  return  for  it  again.  It 
is  a  lucky  chance,  that  an  honest  man  like  yourself 
found  it.  The  miller  is  rich  \  and  by  and  by,  when 
you  improve  in  appearances,  and  open  a  shop  for  your- 
self, you  will  marry  the  miller's  pretty  daughter,  and 
thus,  you  see,  it  will  all  be  restored  to  him  fourfold. 
Cheer  up ;  I  will  show  you  some  of  the  things  that 
will  be.     Look  before  you." 

Hans  looked  up,  and  there,  on  the  whitewashed 
wall,  beheld  what  appeared  to  be  three  compartments, 
like  picture  frames,  in  the  first  of  which,  seen  only  by 
the  lurid  dazzling  glare  which  the  Shadow  cast  upon 
it,  was  a  group  of  figures.  Hans  looked  earnestly, 
and  recognized  himself  in  the  handsome  new  coat, 
supporting  on  his  arm  the  miller's  pretty  daughter 
who  smiled  upon  him,  while  the  old  father  looked  on 
approvingly,  and  rich  farmer  Trenck  walked  sullenly 
alone. 

Hans'  heart  beat  high,  and  turning  to  the  second, 
he  saw  a  church  and  a  bridal  party ;  and  the  groom 
and  bride  were  himself  and  the  miller's  daughter . 
now  his  very  heart  stood  still  with  ecstasy. 

Still  he  looked  on  the  third,  and  there,  in  a  lofty 
room,  rich  with  carved  mouldings,  and  costly  furni- 
ture, he  beheld  a  matron  surrounded  by  blooming 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  29 

children,  and  despite  the  cap  and  additonal  years,  he 
knew  the  beautiful  face  of  the  miller's  daughter. 
Seated  at  the  table,  at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  ap- 
peared the  figure  of  himself,  looking  as  if  years  had 
passed  lightly  over  him.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
robes  of  a  justice,  and  appeared  writing.  Hans  shud- 
dered ;  the  scene  recalled  the  present  too  vividly,  and 
the  Shadow  hastened  to  throw  so  dazzling  a  light 
over  the  picture,  as  to  blind  him  to  its  application. 
When  suddenly  the  voice  of  the  Shadowless  spoke, 
this  time  loudly  and  distinctly  : 

"  Look  once  more,  Hans." 

And  Hans  did  look,  and  now  the  lurid  glare  was 
gone,  and  seen  in  the  silvery  light  of  the  star  of  the 
Shadowless,  he  beheld  himself  pale,  haggard,  and 
fearful,  with  the  miller's  daughter  on  his  arm,  while 
before  him  went  the  fearful  Shadow,  larger,  more  fear- 
ful than  ever. 

He  trembled. 

At  the  second  picture  the  bridal  party  was  indeed 
there,  but  a  black  pall  enveloped  every  thing,  and 
the  fearful  Shadow  filled  the  church  with  its  hideous 
presence. 

At  the  third  he  saw  himself,  and  all  the  group 

about  him,  completely  enveloped  in  its  fearful  gloom ; 

the  countenance  of  the  miller's  daughter  was  worn 

and  faded,  and  for  himself,  seen  in  that  silver  light 
3# 


30  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

of  truth,  he  scarcely  recognized  his  own  features,  so 
changed  and  terrible  had  their  expression  become. 

Hans  covered  his  face. 

"  You  have  now  seen  the  visions  of  the  false,  by 
the  light  of  the  true,"  said  the  Shadowless.  "  Look 
once  more  and  behold  the  truth  itself." 

As  she  spoke,  Hans  looked  up,  and  beheld  the 
former  visions  swept  away;  and  there  pictured  be- 
fore him,  was  the  judgment  hall,  and  himself  ar- 
raigned before  the  bar.  charged  with  the  crime  of 
highway  robbery,  and  evidently  receiving  sentence  of 
condemnation. 

Hans  bowed  his  head  in  agony. 

"  Oh,  star-crowned  Spirit,  guide  me,  and  keep  me 
from  temptation !"  he  fervently  ejaculated,  and  at 
that  word,  the  dark  form  vanished ;  the  Shadow  was 
gone  from  before  him,  and  in  its  place  was  the  soft 
clear  shimmering  light  from  the  silver  wings  of  the 
Shadowless. 

Hans  looked  up,  it  was  early  dawn ;  but  the  sun- 
light seemed  brighter  to  him,  and  a  halo  to  rest  upon 
the  hills.  He  arose,  and,  prompted  by  the  bright 
form  that  no  longer  rested  upon  his  shoulder,  but  now 
nestled  in  his  bosom,  he  took  the  new  coat  from  its 
hiding-place,  and  unlocking  his  chest,  took  out  the 
bag  of  gold.  He  shuddered  when  he  touched  it,  and 
involuntarily  looked  about  him,  fearing  again  to  meet 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  61 

the  tempter.  But  the  silver  voice  said  cheeringly — 
"Fear  nothing,  Hans;  while  I  am  next  thy  heart, 
he  cannot  harm  thee." 

And  so  encouraged,  he  stepped  boldly  out,  with 
his  new  coat  beneath  his  arm,  and  the  bag  of  gold  in 
his  pocket. 

There  was  no  one  stirring  at  that  early  hour,  but 
he  walked  joyfully  on  ;  for  ever  as  he  went,  the  silver 
light  made  a  bright  path  before  him,  and  seemed  to 
widen  and  lengthen  as  he  passed  on.  The  tailor  had 
just  arisen,  and  much  astonished  was  he,  when  Hans 
returned  the  coat,  and  begged  the  gold  should  be  re- 
stored ;  telling  him  how  he  had  found  the  miller's  mo- 
ney, and  had  been  tempted.  The  tailor  was  a  just  man, 
and  did  as  Hans  desired ;  the  piece  was  once  more 
returned  to  its  fellows,  and  he  accompanied  Hans  to- 
wards the  justice's  house.  As  they  neared  it,  they 
saw  quite  a  crowd  assembled,  who,  when  they  saw 
Hans,  all  shouted  : 

"  Here  he  is  himself;  we  have  got  him  !"  and  they 
seized  him  as  they  spoke.  "  So  it  was  you  who  rob- 
bed the  miller,"  cried  they;  "we  found  your  knife 
among  the  rushes." 

But  Hans  looked  down,  and  saw  the  Shadowless 
spirit  resting  in  his  bosom,  and  thus  replying,  "  Not 
so,  my  friends;  come  with  me  and  learn  all,"  he 
passed  on,  nothing  daunted,  to  the  justice  hall. 


32  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

And  there,  when  the  justice  came  in  his  robes 
to  hear  the  case,  and  the  miller  appeared  and  told 
his  story,  and  the  men  showed  the  knife  which  they 
swore  belonged  to  Hans;  then  Hans  himself 
stood  up,  and  placing  the  bag  of  gold  upon  the 
table  before  him,  told  how  he  had  found  it,  and 
had  been  tempted  by  the  Shadow;  and  as  he  went 
on,  and  described  the  vision  he  had  seen,  and  so 
discovered  his  love  for  the  miller's  pretty  daughter, 
and  told  how  the  Shadowless  had  shown  him 
all  these  things  in  their  true  light: — as  he  spoke, 
the  silver  wings  of  the  star-crowned  spirit  in  his 
bosom  shone  with  new  lustre,  and  the  clear  soft  light 
spread  until  it  filled  the  council  chamber,  and  so  fell 
upon  his  countenance  like  a  glory. 

It  penetrated  the  breasts  of  all  who  heard  him ; 
the  wing  of  the  Shadowless  fanned  their  hearts, 
and  with  one  loud  voice  they  acquitted  him  with 
honor. 

And  more  than  this  ;  the  miller  himself  took  him 
home  that  day,  and  in  the  new  coat  which  the  tailor 
had  fitted,  and  which  the  miller  paid  for,  Hans  walked 
to  church  beside  the  miller's  daughter. 

Not  many  Sundays  after,  a  bridal  was  celebrated 
in  the  little  church.  No  dark  Shadow  was  there, 
but  instead,  the  clear,  soft,  silver  light  from  the 
wing  of  the  Shadowless,  floated  like  incense  around 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


them ;  and  when  years  had  passed,  and  Hans  the 
miller  was,  with  his  wife  and  children,  called  the  hap- 
piest family  in  all  the  town,  it  was  the  same  silver 
spirit-light  that  brightened  and  glorified  their  dwelling, 
because  the  star-crowned  Shadowless  now  made  her 
abiding  place  in  the  heart  of  each,  and  to  her  they 
had  dedicated  the  fireside  altar  of  their  home. 


Aunt  Elsie  paused. 

"  It  was  the  Spirit  of  Truth  !"  burst  forth  little 
Norah  Graham. 

"  And  the  Shadow  of  Temptation,"  said  Grace. 
|  Dear  Aunt  Elsie,  how  I  thank  you  for  your  story." 

"  So  do  we  all,"  cried  every  voice,  now  thoroughly 
aroused  from  the  absorbing  interest  each  had  felt. 

"Whenever  I  am  tempted  to  do  wrong,  I  shall 
think  of  the  voice  of  the  Shadow,"  said  George. 

"  I  fancy  I  can  see  the  fearful  dark  thing  increas- 
ing at  every  step,"  said   Frank,  thoughtfully. 

"  That  means  the  consciousness  of  sin,  that  always 
accompanies  a  wrong  act,  I  think,"  said  Jessie,  ear- 
nestly. 

"  How  the  beautiful  star-crowned  spirit  brought 
every  thing  right  at  last,"  remarked  Bertha. 


34  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

"  She  was  patient,  and  long  enduring,"  answered 
May  Lester,  "  the  very  spirit  of  loving  truth." 

And  thus  each  had  a  comment  upon  the  story, 
which,  although  possessing  none  of  the  attributes  of 
their  favorite  Arabian  Nights,  pleased  and  interested 
them,  while  little  Lily  wound  up  the  criticism  by 
clapping  her  hands  and  exclaiming  : 

"  And  so  he  got  the  new  coat,  with  bright  buttons, 
and  married  the  miller's  pretty  daughter  at  last,  and 
was  as  happy  as  happy  could  be,  after  all !  Oh,  Aunt 
Elsie,  I  will  always  mind  the  Spirit  of  Truth." 

"  I  trust  you  will,  my  love,  and  that  each  may 

profit  by  my  little  story,"  said  Aunt  Elsie,  smiling  on 

Mie  little  girl.     "  And  now,  here  comes  Dinah  with 

lie  supper  tray ;  and  after  supper,  and  a  game  of 

omps,  it  will  be  time  to  think  about  bed." 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  35 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  next  day  was  stormy  and  disagreeable,  and  after 
spending  the  morning  in  various  sports  in  the  large 
upper  room  devoted  to  their  use,  the  children  all  as- 
sembled in  the  parlor.  It  was  just  twilight ;  the  snow 
fell  fast  and  furious  without,  and  drifted  and  blew 
against  the  window  panes  as  if  anxious  to  get  a  peep 
within.  The  fire  blazed  up  merrily,  lighting  the  room 
in  fitful  spells  ;  the  little  girls  were  clustered  together, 
deep  in  the  mysteries  of  a  doll's  wedding  that  was  to 
take  place  the  next  morning  with  great  pomp  and 
parade.  The  minister  and  groom  were  being  dressed 
by  the  larger  girls,  while  the  little  ones  thought 
themselves  very  useful  in  making  nondescript  articles 
for  each. 

The  boys  stood  by  the  windows,  watching  the  snow 
flakes  and  projecting  the  building  of  a  great  sled, 
large  enough  to  accommodate  the  whole  party. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  talking  and  arguing 


36  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

"between  the  members  of  each  group,  and  presently 
little  Lily's  voice  rose  in  tones  of  expostulation.     . 

"  Now  Mary,  if  that  is  not  too  bad  ;  you  promised, 
you  know  you  did,  that  my  new  dolly  should  be  the 
bride,  and  now  you  won't  let  her  even  come  to  the 
wedding." 

"  But  Norah's  doll  is  already  dressed  in  white 
muslin,  and  yours  is  not  dressed  at  all,"  answered 
Bertha  Carrol,  "  and  we  have  not  time,  you  know,  to 
dress  it  now." 

"  She  shall  come  to  the  wedding  though,  even  if 
she  is  not  handsomely  dressed,"  replied  Jessie  Lester. 
"  I  will  lend  her  a  dress  of  my  doll's  ;  we  will  manage 
to  make  it  fit." 

"  No,"  cried  little  Lily,  angrily,  while  tears  stood 
in  her  eyes,  "  no :  if  she  can't  come  dressed  like  a 
lady,  she  shan't  come  at  all ;  it  is  all  Mary's  fault, 
and  she  knows  it  too,  for  she  promised  and  promised 
to  dress  her,  ever  so  many  days  ago.  Grace  offered 
to  do  it,  when  I  first  got  her ;  but  Mary  said  she 
should  like  so  to  dress  her  for  me,  that  I  promised 
she  might.  I  kept  my  word,  but  she  has  broken  hers^ 
and  I  will  never,  never  believe  her  again." 

Little  Lily  now  fairly  burst  into  tears,  while  some 
laughed  at  her  childish  grief,  and  Grace  tried  to  com- 
fort her ;  while  Mary  coaxed  her,  saying  she  would 
dress  it  magnificently  yet,  and  no  matter  if  she  was 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  37 

not  ready  this  time  ;  they  would  have  another  wed- 
ding. 

But  Lily  still  declared  she  would  not  believe  a 
word  she  said,  and  spoke  so  vehemently,  that  Aunt 
Elsie,  entering  the  room,  came  and  inquired  the  cause 
of  the  trouble.  Mary  Parker,  who  felt  that  she  had 
done  wrong,  frankly  told  the  cause  of  little  Lily's 
disappointment  and  tears,  and  offered  to  do  all  in  her 
power  to  retrieve  it. 

Aunt  Elsie  looked  grave. 

"  The  matter  is  in  itself  a  mere  trifle,"  she  said, 

"  but  you  should  be  careful  never  to  promise  any 

thing  to  a  child  unless  you  perforin  it.     By  allowing 

a  little  child  to  see  the  promises  of  others  so  lightly 

regarded,  awakens  distrust,  and  teaches   them   not 

only  to  place  no  value  on  promises,  but  at  last  to  be 

regardless  of  truth  itself.     If  you  knew  you  could 

not  dress  the  doll.  Mary,  why  did  you  not  let  Grace 

do  so  ?" 

(.■'.. 
"  I  intended  dressing  it  immediately,"  said  Mary, 

blushing,  "but  I  put  it  off,  thinking  that  I  could  do 
it  any  time.  I  am  very  sorry  that'  I  had  not  done 
it  at  once,  for  I  cannot  bear  to  see  Lily  disap- 
pointed." 

"  Never  mind,  Mary,  don't  be  sorry,"  spoke  little 
Lily,  who  was  v<jry  sorry  herself,  to  hear  Aunt  Elsie 
speak  reproving]^  to  Mary,  whom,  after  all,  she  dearly 
4 


38  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

loved.  "  I  shan't  cry  any  more,"  she  said,  looking  up 
with  a  sunny  smile. 

Aunt  Elsie  kissed  the  little  rosebud  mouth  thus 
upturned,  while  she  said  to  Mary,  smiling : 

"  Any  time  is  no  time,  too  often,  my  dear  child ; 
and  now  suppose  you  all  set  to  work,  cannot  the  doll 
be  dressed  this  evening?  I  dare  say  you  are  all 
willing  to  assist,  as  this  is  quite  a  momentous  occa- 
sion, and  I  am  afraid  the  poor  dolly  would  be  broken- 
hearted, thus  to  be  deserted,  when  she  expected  to 
be  the  bride." 

The  children  laughed,  and  readily  promised  to 
help,  when  Mary  said  : 

"  But  I  have  nothing  prepared  to  make  her  dress ; 
it  ought  to  be  very  handsome." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Aunt  Elsie,  kindly,  "I  will 
bring  out  my  box  of  treasures  after  tea,  and  you  can 
select  something  pretty  enough,  I  dare  say ;  and 
then,  when  you  are  all  busily  engaged,  perhaps  I 
may  bring  out  the  old  portfolio  and  find  another 
story." 

This  proposition  was  hailed  witt  delight,  the  box 
of  treasures  was  in  itself  an  almost  inexhaustible 
source  of  pleasure  to  the  girls.  Such  bundles  of 
scraps  of  rich  brocades  and  delicate  satins  as  it  con- 
tained, with  any  quantity  of  cast-off  feathers,  and 
flowers,  ribbons,  ends  of  lace,  beads  gold  and  silver 


FIE.ESIDE     FAIRIES.  39 

cord,  and  spangles,  enough  to  dress  twenty  dolls ; 
and  from  which  Aunt  Elsie  had  occasionally  drawn 
forth  some  wished-for  article  of  doll's  apparel.  Now, 
to  have  this  box  at  command  was  an  unexpected  de- 
light, and  there  seemed  little  chance  of  the  story 
gaining  much  attention  from  the  girls.  Tea  was 
over,  and  the  hoys  around  the  large  table  were  vari- 
ously engaged,  two  or  three  in  making  a  chess-board 
and  carving  the  men,  little  Frank  Field  holding  yarn 
while  Ernest  wound  a  huge  ball,  and  one  or  two  of 
the  others  drawing.  They  each  had  their  materials 
arranged  so  as  to  occasion  no  interruption,  and  con- 
stantly urged  the  girls  to  be  silent.  They,  however, 
were  clustered  about  a  work-stand,  busily  turning 
over  the  contents  of  the  treasure  box,  while  exclama- 
tions of  admiration  continually  broke  forth  from  the 
group.  There  was  a  long  and  spirited  debate  as  to  the 
material  to  be  chosen,  and  the  whole  evening  would 
probably  have  been  consumed  in  examining  the  trea- 
sure box,  had  not  Aunt  Elsie  joined  them,  and  re- 
minding them  of  their  promise  to  dress  the  doll  be- 
fore bedtime,  assisted  their  taste  with  her  judgment; 
and  the  proper  materials  having  been  chosen,  the 
treasure  box  was  carefully  put  aside,  and  each  one 
having  her  part  assigned  her,  set  earnestly  about  it, 
and  begged  Aunt  Elsie  to  commence,  as  they  could 
work  so  much  faster  while  she  read  to  them. 


40  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

Little  Lily  placed  the  footstool  and  found  the 
spectacles,  then  seating  herself  at  Aunt  Elsie's  feet, 
laid  her  curly  head  upon  the  old  lady's  lap,  who,  hav- 
ing comfortably  settled  herself  in  her  high-backed 
chair,  and  glanced  around  to  see  that  all  were  in  or- 
der, selected  another  manuscript  from  the  old  port- 
folio, and  commenced  reading  what  she  called 


In  a  pretty  little  cottage,  not  a  thousand  miles 
perhaps  from  Betzenclorf,  there  lived  a  lone  widow 
with  her  little  daughter  Enna.  The  widow  was  not 
rich,  she  toiled  from  sunrise  until  sunset ;  and  as 
Enna  grew  from  infancy  into  more  helpful  childhood, 
her  mother  taught  her  to  assist  her  in  various  ways. 

"When  Enna  first  learned  to  hold  the  yarn  which 
her  mother  wound,  and  to  gather  twigs  wherewith  to 
light  their  fire,  she  was  delighted  with  her  new  occu- 
pation ;  but  as  she  became  older,  and  had  a  will  of 
her  own,  she  found  it  much  pleasanter  to  saunter 
through  the  green  and  shady  lanes,  or  to  lounge 
dreamily  on  the  sunny  bank,  than  to  keep  within 
doors  studying  her  lesson,  or  performing  the  tasks 
which  her  mother  required  of  her. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  41 

To  be  idle,  Enna  thought  was  to  be  happy.  No 
matter  what  was  to  be  done,  she  always  put  it  off 
until  she  felt  more  inclined  to  do  it,  and  this  time 
never  coming,  her  duties  were  necessarily  hastily  and 
badly  performed.  One  lovely  summer's  afternoon, 
she  went  with  her  little  bucket  to  draw  water  from 
the  spring,  which  was  some  distance  from  her  mother's 
house.  She  sauntered  idly  along,  and  on  reaching 
the  spring,  put  down  her  bucket,  and  throwing  her- 
self upon  the  grass,  gazed  listlessly  on  the  bright  wa- 
ter that,  issuing  from  the  crevices  of  a  rock,  poured 
itself  into  a  kind  of  basin  that  nature  had  scooped 
out  on  purpose,  and  so  came  bubbling  up  like  a  foun- 
tain, close  to  the  little  girl's  feet.  There  were  long 
green  branches  covered  with  graceful  quivering  leaves, 
trailing  on  the  grass  at  her  side,  and  wild  flowers 
scrambled  over  the  rock  and  peeped  timidly  down 
upon  the  face  of  the  silver  spring,  sometimes  ventur- 
ing to  cast  a  blossom-laden  sprig  upon  its  bosom  ;  the 
Little  birds  twittered  their  good-night  song  to  each 
other  from  amid  the  thick  branches,  and  the  great 
sun  himself,  just  sinking  to  rest  behind  the  distant 
hills,  sent  a  bright  golden  ray  forth  from  his  purple 
canopy  of  clouds,  to  quiver  on  the  surface  of  the 
lovely  spring  fountain  that  had  truthfully  reflected 
his  own  noonday  glory. 

It  was  a  summer  twilight,  as  lovely  as  twilight 

4* 


42  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

could  be,  but  Enna  heeded  none  of  the  beauty  about 
her  ;  she  looked  at  the  bucket,  and  then  at  the  spring, 
with  a  discontented  air. 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,"  at  last  cried  the  little  girl, 
"  how  I  wish  I  was  rich  and  had  servants  in  plenty; 
I  hate  to  carry  water  and  make  the  fire  :  how  much 
pleasanter  it  is  to  be  here.  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  had 
nothing  to  do.    I  wish  I  was  happy." 

So  saying,  she  sighed,  and  taking  up  the  bucket, 
bent  over  the  spring,  when  lo  and  behold,  she  saw  its 
surface  gently  agitated,  and  far  away  down  in  its 
depths  she  perceived  what  appeared  to  be  a  ball  of 
light  arising  to  the  surface.  It  came  slowly  up,  and 
upon  reaching  the  top,  proved  to  be  a  large  bubble 
bright  with  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  The  bubble 
rested  a  second  on  the  water,  then  parted  in  the 
centre,  thus  forming  a  crescent  shape,  while  it 
slowly  sailed  towards  her. 

As  Enna  looked  on  in  mute  surprise,  she  saw  a 
beautiful  tiny  female  standing  in  the  bubble  that 
seemed  like  a  triumphal  car.  This  little  creature  had 
wings  of  the  varied  hues  of  a  gorgeous  butterfly,  her 
gossamer  robes  floated  like  silver  mist  about  her,  and 
she  held  in  her  hand  a  slender  silver  wand.  As  she 
drew  near  the  bank,  Enna  saw  that  she  had  soft 
smiling  eyes  and  long  shining  bright  hair,  and  that 
she  looked  kindly  upon  her. 


N> 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  43 

Presently  the  babble  floated  amid  a  tuft  of  forget- 
me-nots  that  grew  close  to  the  water's  edge,  and  the 
beautiful  fairy  spreading  her  graceful  wings,  alighted 
close  at  Enna's  side. 

■  Enna  was  too  childish  and  untutored  to  feel  aught 
but  delighted  surprise,  at  the  presence  of  the  lovely 
little  fairy,  and  so  she  said : 

"  Who  are  you,  little  beauty,  and  from  whence  did 
you  come  ?" 

The  fairy  smiled  at  Enna's  fearless  questioning, 
and  replied  in  a  voice  soft  and  silvery  as  the  rippling 
of  a  brook  on  the  white  pebbles  : 

"  I  am  the  Lady  of  the  Spring,  Enna.  Have  you 
never  heard  that  on  a  certain  midsummer  day,  there 
is  one  particular  moment  in  which  any  wish  that  a 
mortal  makes,  while  looking  on  this  fountain,  shall  be 
fulfilled?  You  have  unknowingly  chosen  the  very 
moment  to  wish  you  were  happy,  and  now  I  have 
come  to  grant  your  wish."  .  - 

"  Are  you  really  in  earnest  ?  have  you  such  pow- 
er ?"  asked  Enna,  her  eyes  opening  wide  with  aston- 
ishment ;  and  then  assured  by  the  kind  smile  of  the 
fairy,  she  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  how  delightful  this  is,  and  how  happy  I  shall 
be'.  I  wish  to  be  rich,  to  have  servants,  to  ride  in  a 
fine  coach,  and  have  nothing  to  do." 

v  Not  so  fast,"  interrupted  the  Lady  of  the  Spring; 


44  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

u  you  wished  to  be  happy,  but  the  way  in  which  your 
happiness  is  brought  about,  must  rest  with  me.  How- 
ever, as  there  are  certain  conditions  which  you  seem 
to  think  essential,  they  must  be  attended  to.  You 
say,  Enna,  if  you  had  nothing  to  do,  you  would  be 
perfectly  happy  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  little  girl,  in  a  more  sub- 
dued manner ;  "  I  should  like  to  be  elegantly  dressed 
as  you  are,  and  have  nothing  to  do  but  sail  about  as 
you  do." 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,  Enna,  in  supposing 
me  idle,"  said  the  fairy ;  "  I  have  my  duties  as  well  as 
yourself.  It  is  I  who  keep  this  living  spring  from 
stagnating  by  constantly  agitating  it,  and  sending  the 
bright  bubbles,  who  are  my  servants,  up  to  its  sur- 
face. Indeed,  it  is  one  of  the  conditions  to  which  our 
race  owe  their  existence,  that  they  should  be  con- 
stantly employed;  idleness  brings  its  own  punish- 
ment to  us.  Do  you  see  those  unsightly  stones  at 
the  bottom  of  the  spring  ?  they  were  once  beings  as 
bright  and  brilliant  as  myself,  but  failing  to  employ 
themselves  for  any  good  purpose,  they  gradually  lost 
their  beauty,  and  became  the  dull  heavy  things  you 
now  see,  incapable  of  motion  and  unconscious  of  en- 
joyment. The  one  among  us  who  is  the  most  active, 
is  chosen  queen,  a  distinction  conferred  upon  me,  and 
which  I  should  forfeit  did  I  yield  to  indolence.     So 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  45 

ou  see,  Enna,  that  for  me  at  least,  idleness  has  no 
harm." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Enna,  a  little  abashed,  "  but 
•our  work  is  not  at  all  like  mine :  if  I  were  a  fairy  I 
hould  like  very  well  to  be  employed  at  such  delight- 
ed tasks  as  yours.  But  I  have  many  disagreeable 
hings  to  do — I  don't  like  to  be  busy  from  morning 
ill  night." 

"  You  are  but  a  very  little  child,  and  have  much 
o  learn,"  said  the  fairy,  gravely.  "  But  you  must 
ee  from  what  I  have  told  you,  how  impossible  it  is 
hat  I  should  gratify  your  desire  to  be  idle.  I  will 
nake  you  happy,  however ;  and  to  accomplish  this,  I 
nil  give  you  servants  in  plently." 

Enna's  eyes  danced  with  eager  delight.  "  With 
)lenty  of  servants  I  need  never  work,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Wait  a  little,  until  you  hear  the  conditions  on 
vhich  they  come  to  you,"  replied  the  Lady  of  the 
Spring.  "  I  have  told  you  that  none  of  our  race  can 
)e  idle  and  live,  neither  can  they  exist  in  the  same 
itmosphere  with  indolence.  The  fairy  servants  I 
vill  give  you,  must  necessarily  be  ignorant  of  your 
hities,  and  you  must  teach  them  by  your  example 
yhat  they  are  to  do.  As  they  are  placed  under  your 
;are,  you  are  responsible  for  them ;  and  I  warn  you 
,hat  your  idleness  will  cause  their  death.  These  fairy 
servants  are  like  all  of  our  race,  very  small,  but  they 


46 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


are  capable  of  performing  wonderful  things ;  and  i 
by  your  example,  you  properly  instruct  tbem  in  thei: 
present  duties,  they  will,  after  a  time,  accomplisl 
works  of  which  you  do  not  even  dream.  But  to  mak< 
them  valuable  servants,  you  must  lay  aside  for  a  tim< 
your  desire  to  be  idle.  Are  you  willing  to  accepi 
them  on  these  conditions  VI 

"  Oh,  yes  I"  exclaimed  Enna,  joyfully.  "  I  wil 
gladly  be  industrious  a  while,  that  I  may  do  nothing 
ever  afterwards.  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times. 
But  when  shall  I  begin  ?" 

"  Come  here  to-morrow  morning,  when  the  first  sun- 
beam falls  on  the  fountain,  and  here,  amid  this  tuft 
of  forget-me-nots,  you  will  find  a  small  casket,  curi- 
ously wrought;  put  it  in  your  bosom  without  opening 
it,  and  carry  it  with  you  all  day.  At  sunset  come 
here  again,  and  when  the  last  ray  quivers  on  the 
fountain's  breast,  take  out  your  casket  and  open  it ; 
you  will  then  see  how  you  have  fulfilled  the  condi- 
tions you  now  accept.  The  casket  will  contain  a 
number  of  minute  fairies,  as  they  are  called,  who  are 
willing  to  become  your  servants  for  life,  provided  you 
keep  them  employed.  If,  by  your  example,  you  have 
kept  them  busy,  you  will  find  the  casket  filled  with 
beautiful  little  creatures,  radiant  as  myself.  But  if 
you  have  wasted  your  time,  it  will  be  filled  with  little 


FIRESIDE     FAIE.IES.  47 

leaden  figures,  dull  and  inanimate.  Do  you  under- 
stand, Enna  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  little  girl,  thoughtfully,  "  the 
minute  fairies  will  be  mine,  and  I  must  teach  them 
to  work  for  me,  by  showing  them  how,  myself.  How 
long  will  it  take  them  to  learn  of  me  ?" 

"  That  depends  entirely  upon  yourself,"  replied 
the  Lady  of  the  Spring,  encouragingly.  "  Every 
morning,  at  the  first  dawn  of  sunrise,  the  casket  will 
be  lying  here,  replenished  with  fresh  servants  for 
you  ;  and  when,  for  three  successive  days,  you  can 
open  it  at  sunset  and  find  no  leaden  figures  in  it, 
your  task  will  be  accomplished,  and  the  minute  fairies 
bound  to  serve  you  for  ever." 

''Then  the  more  industrious  I  am  the  sooner  they 
will  learn,"  answered  the  little  girl.  "  Well,  I  will  try 
with  all  my  might." 

The  fairy  smiled  encouragingly.  "  That  is  right, 
Enna,  you  see  it  all  depends  upon  yourself,  whether 
or  not  you  shall  have  servants  in  plenty ;  and  now 
hasten  home,  and  remember  to  be  here  at  the  first 
ray  of  sunshine  to-morrow." 

The  beautiful  fairy  spread  her  wings  as  she  spoke, 
iand  floated  away,  out  of  Enna's  sight,  and  the  little 
I'girl,  after  filling  her  bucket,  returned  thoughtfully  to 
sher  home. 

Enna  determined  to  say  nothing  about  her  adven- 


48  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

ture  to  her  mother,  but  she  was  unusually  silent  at 
supper,  and  went  early  to  bed.  The  next  morning 
the  little  girl  awoke  at  earliest  peep  of  dawn,  and 
rising  softly,  went  down  stairs  without  disturbing  anj 
one ;  then  taking  her  little  bucket,  hastened  away  tc 
the  well.  This  time  she  did  not  linger  on  her  way 
but  arrived  at  the  spring,  and  filling  her  bucket,  sal 
down  to  await  the  first  sunbeam.  Enna,  like  mosl 
other  people  who  do  not  value  time,  seldom  rose  early, 
and  she  was  therefore  surprised  and  delighted  with  the 
quiet  and  cool  appearance  of  every  thing  around.  The 
little  birds  were  twittering  about  among  the  branches, 
singing  their  earliest  songs  ;  the  dew  laid  heaviby 
upon  the  grass,  and  the  wild  flowers  were  just  unfold- 
ing their  leaves  and  lifting  up  their  heads  from  their 
grassy  pillows,  as  though  waiting  the  command  oi 
the  sun  to  arise.  Presently  the  soft  rosy  light  thai 
had  been  slowly  spreading  over  the  eastern  sky,  deep- 
ened to  a  richer  glow,  and  one  bright  golden  sun- 
beam pierced  through  the  intertwining  branches, 
and  quivered  on  the  waters  of  the  spring.  Enna 
started  up  and  looked  among  the  tuft  of  forget-me- 
nots,  scarcely  expecting  to  find  the  casket,  but  in- 
clined to  think  her  fairy  adventure  all  a  dream.  But 
there,  nestled  among  the  tiny  blossoms,  was  a  small 
curiously  wrought  silver  box,  so  bright  that  it  dazzled 
the  little  girl's  eyes  when  the  sun  fell  on  it.     Her 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  49 

ieart  beat  with  delight  as  she  put  the  casket  in  her 
)OSom,  and  gayly  taking  up  her  bucket  went  singing 
m  her  path. 

I  Yer j  much  surprised  was  Enna's  mother,  when 
he  saw  her  little  girl  returning  thus  early  with  her 
racket  filled  from  the  spring.  She  had  thought 
Snna  was  yet  asleep.  The  good  woman  kissed  her 
:aughter's  rosy  cheek,  and  called  her  an  industrious 
ittle  bee,  to  be  abroad  so  early,  and  Enna  was  so 
'ell  pleased  to  be  thus  praised  that  she  felt  happier 
aan  ever. 

"  Now,"  thought  Enna,  "  what  is  my  first  task  ?  I 
ai  up  so  early  that  I  shall  have  a  fine  opportunity 
)  set  my  minute  fairies  a  good  example.  Well,  I 
ill  weed  the  garden  patch  before  the  sun  falls  on  it." 
,nd  away  she  ran  to  the  little  garden,  and  by  the 
me  her  mother  called  her  in  to  breakfast,  the  weeds 
id  all  disappeared. 

Incited  b^  her  mother's  praise,  and  her  desire  to 
|ch  her  fairy  servitors,  Enna  performed  all  her 
orning  tasks  with  unwonted  alacrity.  She  washed 
e  breakfast  things,  swept  up  the  floor,  arranged  her 
m  room,  watered  the  flowers,  fed  the  chickens,  and 
d  every  thing  her  mother  bid  her  so  cheerfully  that 
e  tears  came  in  the  good  woman's  eyes,  at  this  un- 
:pected  change. 

After  Enna  had  performed  her  usual  duties,  she 
5 


50  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

took  up  her  book  to  study  her  lesson.  She  began 
very  much  in  earnest,  but  presently  her  thoughts 
wandered  away  to  the  spring,  and  she  commenced 
congratulating  herself  on  her  industry,  and  specu- 
lating on  the  fine  times  she  would  have  after  she  had 
taught  her  minute  fairies  how  to  work  for  her. 

She  sat  idly  with  the  book  on  her  knee,  when  her 
mother  asked  her  if  she  was  too  tired  to  study,  and 
told  her  she  need  not  learn  her  lesson  unless  she 
pleased. 

This  roused  Enna  to  a  sense  of  her  idleness,  and 
she  studied  away  in  good  earnest.  She  soon  learned 
her  lesson,  and  recited  it  perfectly. 

In  the  afternoon  Enna  was  winding  some  yarn 
for  her  mother,  when  a  neighbor  came  in,  and  the 
little  girl  soon  became  interested  in  her  idle  gossip, 
and  let  the  yarn  fall  idly  from  her  hand.  When  the 
neighbor  rose  to  go,  Enna  saw  that  it  was  very  near 
sunset,  and  so  hastened  to  finish  the  yarn.  She  was 
very  anxious  to  open  the  casket.  She  felt  pretty 
sure  that  all  the  fairies  would  be  safe,  and  so,  taking 
her  bucket,  hastened  away  to  the  spring. 

The  sun  was  just  sinking  as  she  reached  the 
silver  water,  and  his  last  beam  was  quivering  on  its 
surface,  when  she  took  the  silver  casket  from  her 
bosom,  and  with  trembling  fingers'  touched  the 
spring.     The  casket  flew  open,  and  there  within  it 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  51 

were  numbers  of  tiny  beautiful  creatures,  who,  as 
Enna  endeavored  to  count  them,  spread  their  gauze- 
like wings,  and  floated  away.  Enna  looked  into  the 
casket,  expecting  to  find  it  empty,  but  to  her  disap- 
pointment, there  were  a  great  many  little  leaden 
figures  remaining. 

Enna  endeavored  to  recollect  at  what  time  during 
the  day  she  had  been  idle,  and  remembered  how  she 
had  sat  listening  to  the  neighbor's  gossip,  and  how 
she  had  forgotten  to  study  while  indulging  in  golden 
dreams.  She  felt  sorry  and  disappointed,  but  re- 
solved not  to  be  discouraged  on  the  very  first  day 
of  trial ;  and  so,  after  carefully  depositing  the  casket 
among  the  tuft  of  forget-me-nots,  went  thoughtfully 
home,  full  of  good  resolutions  for  the  future. 

Several  days  passed  on  with  varied  success.  One 
afternoon  was  wasted  with  an  idle  companion  ;  another 
hour  slipped  away  unperceived  while  she  watched  the 
antics  of  an  organ-grinder's  monkey ;  but  still,  when 
Enna  opened  the  casket  at  sunset,  she  thought  the 
leaden  figures  seemed  to  dimmish  in  number;  and 
thus  encouraged,  she  went  hopefully  on,  each  day  en- 
deavoring to  avoid  the  faults  of  the  preceding. 

The  little  girl  was  unconsciously  forming  habits 
of  industry ;  and  what  was  at  first  a  task  had  now 
become  a  pleasure.  She  was  happier  than  she  had 
ever  been  before  ;  her  mother  praised  her  ;  no  scold- 


52  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

ings  awaited  her  for  neglected  duties ;  the  neighbors 
spoke  kindly,  and  the  hours  of  recreation  after  her 
tasks  were  done  had  never  seemed  so  bright  and  de- 
lightful. Little  Enna  was  in  a  .  fair  way  to  have 
"  servants  in  plenty,"  according  to  the  fairy's  promise, 
when  a  new  trial  befell  her. 

One  morning,  upon  awaking,  she  saw  the  sky  look 
dark  and  lowering,  and  heard  great  rain-drops  patter- 
ing on  the  roof.  Here  was  a  trial.  Enna  did  not 
like  to  rise  so  early  on  a  dark  rainy  morning,  and  go 
through  the  wet  grass  to  the  spring ;  and  she  laid 
still,  thinking  perhaps  it  would  stop  raining  in  a  little 
while.  But  the  clouds  seemed  determined  to  give 
the  grass  a  good  drenching,  and  Enna's  mother  twice 
called  the  little  girl  before  she  arose,  and  slowly  dress- 
ing herself,  went  with  a  very  ill  grace  to  the  spring. 
It  was  very  late,  and  Enna  began  to  fear  the  casket 
would  not  be  there ;  but  she  espied  it  in  its  usual 
place,  and,  hastily  grasping  it,  returned  home  sullen 
and  cross. 

Alas,  for  poor  Enna !  that  day  was  a  miserable 
one  to  her.  Every  thing  seemed  to  go  wrong.  She 
had  wasted  so  much  time  in  bed,  that  her  tasks  were 
hurriedly  done.  The  yarn  would  tangle,  and  the 
needle  would  not  be  threaded,  and  the  lesson  would 
not  be  learned,  and  Enna  lost  her  temper,  and  even 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  53 

the  bright  sunshine  that  broke  amid  the  clouds  just 
before  sunset  could  not  restore  her  good  humor. 

It  was  with  many  misgivings  that  Enna  opened 
her  casket  by  the  spring  side  on  that  evening.  She 
felt  that  the  day  had  been  misspent,  and  knew  there 
were  many,  very  many,  leaden  images  in  the  box ;  but 
even  she,  was  scarcely  prepared  for  the  sight  that  met 
her  eyes  upon  lifting  the  lid.  There  appeared  to  be 
myriads  of  little  shapeless  leaden  things  within,  and 
the  few  who  floated  out  had  lost  much  of  their  bril- 
liant hue ;  she  could  have  counted  them,  so  small 
was  the  number,  had  she  not  been  absorbed  in  grief 
at  the  sight  of  the  leaden  minute  fairies. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do !  what  shall  I  do !"  sobbed 
the  little  girl ;  "  I  have  wickedly  killed  so  many  fairy 
servants,  that  the  Lady  of  the  Spring  will  never  trust 
me  again  !  what  a  very,  very  idle  girl  I  have  been  !" 
and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept  loudly 
and  long.  She  wished  the  spring  fairy  would  come 
to  her  again,  that  she  might  tell  her  how  sorry  she 
was,  and  beg  her  not  to  withdraw  her  promise ;  and 
she  waited  till  the  sun  had  long  sunk  behind  the  dis- 
tant hills,  and  the  pale  stars  were  reflected  like  span- 
gles in  the  spring,  hoping  the  fairy  would  appear,  but 
she  did  not  come.  Enna  returned  home  that  night 
sadder  but  far  wiser  than  before. 

The.first  sunbeam  had  scarcely  kissed  the  spring 

5* 


54  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

on  the  next  morning  when  Enna  stood  trembling  at 
its  brink,  hoping,  yet  fearing  the  casket  would  not  be 
there ;  but,  as  her  eye  sought  the  accustomed  place, 
she  espied  the  shining  box,  and  clasped  it  with  an 
eagerness  she  had  never  known  before. 

From  that  day  Enna  had  the  satisfaction  to  find 
the  leaden  figures  decrease  every  time  the  casket  was 
opened  ;  and  one  evening,  to  her  inexpressible  delight, 
not  one  remained.  She  was  now  near  the  goal  of  her 
wishes ;  and  after  several  failures,  she  was  happy  in 
finding  it  filled  with  bright  fairies  for  two  succeeding 
evenings.  You  may  be  sure  she  tried  harder  than 
ever  the  next  day,  and  with  a  beating  heart  repaired 
to  the  spring  side  and  opened  her  casket.  Out  soared 
a  cloud  of  brilliant  little  creatures,  not  one  leaden 
figure  was  there  !     Enna's  task  was  done  ! 

As  the  little  girl  gazed  after  the  floating  forms 
with  delighted  satisfaction,  she  heard  her  own  name 
called  in  a  sweet  low  voice,  and  looking  down  beheld 
her  friend,  the  Lady  of  the  Spring. 

"  You  have  accomplished  your  task,  Enna,"  said 
the  fairy,  smiling  kindly  on  her,  while  her  golden  hair 
floated  back  upon  the  breeze,  "  and  are  entitled  to  your 
reward." 

Enna  blushed,  but  found  courage  to  reply — "  It 
took  me  much  longer  than  I  had  thought ;  I  did  not 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  55 

know  how  idle  I  was,  and  feared  I  had  offended  you 
by  destroying  so  many  of  your  fairies." 

"  No,"  said  the  fairy,  gravely,  "  the  minute  fairies 
belong  to  one  who  is  willing  to  sacrifice  them  in  attain- 
ing good.  You  have  shown  much  perseverance,  En- 
na,  in  conquering  your  idle  habits,  and  I  think  there 
is  no  fear  that  you  will  destroy  many  more  minute 
fairies.  You  have  conquered  yourself,  my  dear  little 
girl,  and  thus  have  won  a  great  victory.  And  now," 
she  added,  smiling,  "  I  must  remember  the  reward — 
'  plenty  of  servants  and  nothing  to  do.'  Was  not  that 
the  wish,  Enna  ?" 

Enna  was  silent  a  few  moments,  and  then  replied 
timidly,  "Do  you  know  I  think  I  should  not  be  con- 
tented now,  were  I  to  be  idle  and  have  nothing  to  do. 
I  am  so  happy,  and  all  my  tasks  seem  so  pleasant ; 
and  yet,"  she  added,  blushing,  "  I  should  so  like  to 
ham  more — I  would  like  so  much  to  see  the  wonder- 
ful things  you  said  the  minute  fairies  could  do." 

A  kind  smile,  bright  and  beautiful  as  a  sunbeam, 
lit  up  the  lovely  face  of  the  fairy,  as  she  bent  her  soft 
eyes  tenderly  on  the  little  girl  and  said : 

"  You  have  discovered  the  great  secret,  my  Enna; 
you  have  found  the  true  value  of  the  servants  I  pro- 
mised you.  They  will,  indeed,  teach  you  many  won- 
derful things.  Go  on,  and  perfect  the  lesson  you  have 
so  bravely  begun,  and  learn  from  the  minute  fairies 


5§  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

how  much  may  be  accomplished  by  a  proper  valuation 
of  time." 

As  she  spoke,  she  clasped  around  Enna's  neck  a 
rare  locket,  composed  of  a  brilliant  stone  set  round 
with  more  than  twenty  smaller  ones,  each  in  their  turn 
encircled  by  many  small  and  very  dazzling  jewels. 
"  Wear  this  for  my  sake,  Enna,"  she  said ;  "and,  by 
marking  the  varying  lustre  of  these  gems,  you  will 
know  whether  your  minute  fairies  are  doing  their  duty  • 
henceforward  they  are  bound  to  serve  vou  for  ever. 
Farewell,  my  child,  go  and  prosper." 

As  she  spoke,  she  floated  away  from  Enna's  wistful 
gaze,  and  the  little  girl  returned  joyously  home. 
And  what  happened  then  ? 

Why  Enna's  servants  proved  most  faithful  ones 
and  gave  evidence  of  their  power  and  worth  as' 
years  sped  on;  for  Enna,  profiting  by  their  teach- 
ings, became  the  finest  scholar,  the  neatest  hand- 
maiden, the  earliest  riser,  and  most  industrious  girl 
for  miles  around.  Her  cheeks  wore  the  glow  of  health, 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  cheerful  good-humor,  and  her 
form  was  light  and  graceful  with  exercise  and  youth. 
Busy  as  a  bee,  and  happy  as  a  bird,  Enna  found  that 
the  improvement  of  time  brings  health,  wealth,  and 
happiness. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  57 

There  was  a  hush,  as  Aunt  Elsie  finished  her 
tory ;  not  a  word  had  been  spoken  during  the  read- 
ag;  and  now,  Mary  Parker,  rising  from  her  seat, 
ame  and  laid  little  Lily's  doll  on  Aunt  Elsie's 
:nee,  and  said,  while  tears  stood  in  her  eyes  and  her 
oice  trembled : 

"  You  chose  that  story  for  my  especial  benefit,  dear 
bint  Elsie,  I  am  sure,  and  I  thank  you  for  its  applica- 
ion.  There,"  she  added,  smiling,  as  she  pointed  to  the 
[oil,  "  there  is  my  first  offering  on  the  shrine  of  the  mi- 
tute  fairies." 

Aunt  Elsie  drew  Mary  towards  her,  and  kissed 
ier  blooming  cheek  fondly.  "  I  do  not  mean  to  be 
lersonal  in  my  selections,"  she  said  kindly,  "  but'  I 
rill  hereafter  read  any  story  that  is  applicable  to  the 
ransactions  of  the  day.  I  think,  Mary,  we  may  all  find 
auch  to  apply  to  ourselves  in  a  story  inculcating  the 
alue  of  time." 

"  That  we  may,"  answered  many  voices,  as  the 
;roup  rose  from  the  table  and  gathered  around  the 
ire. 

%  And  now,  Miss  Lily,"  said  Bertha  Carrol,  "  as 
ou  have  profited  so  much  by  our  industry,  please 
ell  us  what  the  beautiful  locket  was  that  the  fairy 
;ave  Enna  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  I  don't  understand,"  answered  Lily, 
rho  was  literally  devouring  her  doll  with  kisses  to 


58  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

the  imminent  risk  of  its  rosy  cheeks.  "  But  I  know 
the  little  fairies  were  real  minutes ;  and  I  suppose 
they  looked  as  beautiful  as  this  dolly,  only  very  small." 
"  The  locket  represents  the  day,  I  think,"  said 
Clara  Wilder. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  the  smaller  stones  the  hours,  and  the 
little  bits  of  ones  minutes,"  exclaimed  Norah  Graham. 
"It  is  a  very  pretty  story;  I  like  it  much,"   said 
Jessie  Lester. 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Charles  Carrol ;"  I  can  under- 
stand well  enough  how  the  time  slips  away  without 
one's  knowing  it.  Go  out  to  play  ball  for  five  mi- 
nutes  before  you  begin  to  study,  and  whew  !  a  whole 
hour  bounces  off  before  you  know  where  you  are." 

The  children  laughed  at  Charles's  bouncing  hour, 
and  after  Lily's  doll  had  been  duly  admired,  they 
hastened  to  remove  their  working  materials,  as  Aunt 
Elsie  made  it  a  rule  never  to  leave  the  room  disor- 
dered upon  retiring  to  rest. 

The  next  morning  the  doll's  wedding  was  cele- 
brated with  all  due  magnificence,  and  little  Lily  made 
happy  by  having  her  superb  dolly,  in  her  dress  of  old- 
fashioned  silver  brocade  and  flowing  veil,  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes.  While  Mary  Parker,  as  she  witnessed 
the  delight  which  the  fulfilment  of  her  promise  gave 
her  little  favorite,  inwardly  resolved  to  remember, 
and  profit  by  the  story  of  the  Minute  Fairies. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  59 


CHAPTER  III. 

What  a  glorious  winter's  day  it  was  !  The  snow 
lay  full  two  feet  deep  on  a  level,  and  was  frozen  so 
hard  on  the  top  as  easily  to  bear  up  beneath  your 
footsteps.  It  was  very  cold,  though,  and  the  sharp 
keen  air  rushed  bitingly  against  your  face  as  if  it  had 
awakened  an  appetite  within  itself,  and  was  ready  to 
devour  you.  Jack  Frost  was  wide  awake  that  day, 
and  left  his  mark  upon  cheeks  and  noses ;  and  crept 
behind  the  woollen  mufflers  to  give  your  ears  a  friendly 
pinch  by  way  of  remembrance.  The  sun  shone  down 
on  the  crusted  snow  as  bright  as  bright  could  be,  and 
tried  in  vain  to  thaw  its  icy  surface ;  but  the  bleak 
northwest  wind  caught  up  small  particles  of  the 
drifted  snow  flakes,  and  flung  them  back  into  the  sun's 
face  in  sport,  and  thus  the  whole  air  was  filled  with 
sparkling  specks  of  ice,  while  the  leafless  branches  of 
the  trees  were  festooned  with  snow  wreaths,  and  hung 


60  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

with  icicles  that  crackled  with  a  clear  sharp  sound 
when  the  wind  tossed  the  boughs  about. 

It  was  just  the  day  of  days  for  sledding,  and  the 
fine  slope  at  the  back  of  Aunt  Elsie's  was  the  hill  of 
hills  for  that  purpose.  So  at  least  thought  our  little 
party  as  they  sallied  forth  after  breakfast,  well  pro- 
tected by  great  coats  and  tippets,  sundry  mufflers  and 
mittens,  against  the  cold. 

The  great  sled  that  had  been  projected  proved  a 
failure ;  but  there  were  several  small  ones  belonging 
to  the  party,  and  these  went  merrily  enough.  The 
girls  were  allowed  their  full  share  in  the  sport,  and 
such  shouts  of  merry  laughter  as  rang  out  on  the 
clear  frosty  air,  might  have  warmed  the  heart  of  a 
weary  traveller. 

The  morning  sped  away  rapidly,  and  at  dinner 
time  the  hungry  group  did  ample  justice  to  the  store 
of  good  things,  which  Aunt  Elsie's  kindness  had  pro- 
vided for  them. 

"  Well,  we  have  had  rare  sport,"  cried  Ernest 
Carrol,  when  they  had  assembled  once  more  in  the 
old  cosy  parlor,  and  were  arranging  their  evening 
pastimes.  "I  don't  feel  in  the  least  tired,  and  am 
willing  to  challenge  any  one  to  a  game  of  snow-ball." 

"I  wish  I  was  strong  like  you,  Ernest,"  said 
little  Frank  Field,  looking  up  admiringly  into  the 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


61 


Ene  glowing  face  of  the  other  ;  "  I  get  tired  so  easily, 
and  am  so  soon  out  of  breath." 

"  Never  mind,  Franky,"  cried  Harry  Wilder,  en- 
couragingly; "wait  until  you  grow  a  man,  and  see  if 
you  are  not  as  strong  as  he  is.  No  wonder  you  are 
tired,  little  fellow,  when  you  would  take  your  turn 
dragging  up  the  sled  with  the  rest,  in  spite  of  all  we 
could  say.  You  know  we  are  all  older,  and  of  course 
stronger  than  you  are,  Frank." 

Frank  shook  his  head.  "I  will  never  be  as  strong 
as  any  of  you,"  he  said.  "  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  work  as  hard  as  I  ought." 

Little  Lily  came  and  laid  her  curly  head  on  her 
brother's  bosom,  and  looking  up  in  his  face,  whis- 
pered : 

"  Wait  till  I  grow  up,  Franky,  and  I  will  buy  a 
great  sled  with  a  horse,  on  purpose  for  you." 

.  «  So  we  will,  Lily,"  said  Harry  Wilder,  anxious 
to  change  the  current  of  Frank's  thoughts,  for  the 
sensitive  and  delicate  boy  dwelt  much  upon  the  lonely 
situation  of  himself  and  little  sister—"  so  We  will : 
wouldn't  it  be  fine  to  have  a  large  sleigh  big  enough 
to  accommodate  us  all,  and  a  pair  of  horses  with 
plenty  of  bells,  eh  ?" 

«  Yes,"  chimed  in  his  brother  George ;  "  I  thought 
this  morning  it  was  pretty  hard  work  dragging  the 
6 


62 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES, 


sleds  up  hill,  just  to  slide  down  again.     It  was  mak- 
ing a  toil  of  a  pleasure,  too  much  for  my  taste." 

"  Why,  that  is  the  best  part  of  it,  George,"  cried 
Charles  Carrol;  "I  don't  see  that  it  makes  much 
difference  what  you    do,  so  as  you  are  out  in  the 


snow.' 


"  But  I  am  disappointed  in  our  great  sled,"  said 
George,  fretfully,  "and  I  am  tired  of  these  little 
ones.  I  propose  that  we  stay  in  doors,  and  try  to 
make  a  large  one,  and  let  our  old  ones  alone." 

"  And  so  lose  all  the  fine  sledding !"  exclaimed 
Ernest :  "  not  I,  for  one." 

"Let  well  enough  alone,  George,"  said  his  brother 
Harry  ;  "  our  sleds  run  famously,  I  am  sure." 

"Do  you  remember,  Harry,"  answered  his  brother, 
"what  a  grand  one  James  Grant  had?  that's  the  kind 
I  want,  these  little  ones  seem  so  childish  now." 

"  I  guess  you  are  tired,  is  the  reason  you  feel  so 
discontented,  George,"  said  his  cousin  Grace.     "  You 
said  nothing  against  the  sleds  this  morning." 
George  looked  sulky. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Lucy  Parker,  «  George  wants  a  large 
stage  sleigh,  with  six  horses  and  red  feathers  in  their 
heads,  and  buffalo  robes,  and  bear  skins,  with  great 
redeyes  and  staring  teeth,  besides  bells  enough  to 
deafen  us,  just  to  cause  a  sensation.     Then  we  must 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  63 

all  jump  in,  with  Aunt  Elsie  in  the  back  seat,  throned 
like  an  Indian  princess :  that  is  it,  isn't  it,  George?" 
•The  children  all  laughed,  and  even  George  smiled 
at  this  description,  while  Aunt  Elsie  said,  smiling, 
f I  think  I  should  hut  ill  become  so  dignified  a  situ- 
ation, as  the  one  you  have  assigned  me,  and  should 
need  the  foolscap  and  bells  to  make  the  picture 
complete." 

Little  Lily  clapped  her  hands  in  ecstasy  at  the 
idea  of  Aunt  Elsie  in  a  foolscap ;  and  good  humor 
being  restored,  the  controversy  was  dropped. 

The  evening  had  now  closed  in,  and  the  curtains 
were  let  down,  lights  brought,  and  the  usual  employ- 
ments produced.  But  the  little  party  were  too  much 
fatigued  to  enter  into  any  sport,  and  as  Aunt  Elsie 
sat  knitting  industriously  in  the  corner,  there  were 
sundry  whisperings,  and  side  glances  towards  the 
bookcase,  and  at  last  little  Lily,  putting  her  rose- 
bud mouth  close  to  the  old  lady's  cheek,  murmured 
a  request.     Aunt  Elsie  laid  down  her  needles  and 

smiled. 

"We  will  put  it  to  vote,  Lily,"  she  said.  "I 
think  you  will  be  apt  to  grow  sleepy  if  I  read  to  you 
to-night." 

«  Oh,  no,  Aunt  Elsie !  Please  read,  Aunt  Elsie, 
it  is  so  many  evenings  since  we  had  a  story !"  cried 
many  voices. 


64  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

"  Only  since  the  night  before  last,"  replied  the 
old  lady,  kindly ;  "  however,  if  you  will  call  Dinah 
to  bring  us  in  some  nuts  and  apples,  and  a  plate  of 
krollers,  I  will  try  and  find  a  short  story." 

The  refreshments  were  brought,  the  old  portfolio 
opened,  and  good  Aunt  Elsie,  putting  aside  her  knit- 
ting work,  prepared  to  read  to  the  expectant  group 
the  following  story,  which  she  called 


'"$  %m,  ml  <Dlr;  M  1" 

In  a  very  little,  very  poor  and  straggling  town, 
that  is  not  to  be  found  on  any  map,  and  conse- 
quently whose  name  it  is  no  sort  of  use  to  remember, 
there  lived  a  poor  weaver  with  two  sons. 

These  boys,  named  Klem  and  Carl,  worked  at  the 
loom,  and  learned  their  father's  trade ;  but  in  such 
a  small  place  there  was  very  little  to  do,  and  the 
money  came  in  but  slowly  to  the  pockets  of  the 
weaver  and  his  sons. 

When  the  brothers  were  well  grown,  and  fully 
able  to  work  without  their  father's  assistance,  the  old 
man  resolved  to  take  a  journey  to  a  distant  city, 
where  he  had  some  relations  pretty  well  to  do  in  the 
world,  and  see  if  he  could  not  engage  some  work 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  65 

from  that  place,  while  his  two  sons  attended  to  the 
affairs  at  home. 

The  evening  before  the  old  man  set  out  on  his 
journey,  the  three  were  sitting  together,  talking  over 
their  prospects,  when  the  father  said  : 

"  There  is  a  certain  something  I  have  to  tell  you, 
my  sons,  to  which  you  must  pay  great  attention. 
You  must  know  that  in  this  land  there  is  a  little 
bird  called  '  I  Have,'  who  is  very  tame,  and  easily 
caught,  if  you  only  go  to  the  right  place  to  find  him. 
This  bird  is  not  very  handsome  to  look  at,  but  once 
catch  him,  and  make  him  a  fine  soft  nest  in  a  warm 
corner,  and  he  will  lay  you  a  golden  egg  every  day, 
besides  singing  cheerily  while  you  are  at  work.  He 
is  usually  found  not  very  far  from  home,  and  once 
secured,  your  fortune  is  made." 

Klem  and  Carl  were  very  much  surprised,  as  well 
as  delighted  at  what  they  heard,  and  expressed  their 
determination  to  start  off  immediately  in  search  of 
the  wonderful  bird,  especially  Klem,  who  was  an 
unsettled  fellow,  and  did  not  much  like  to  work. 

When  the  father  saw  how  anxious  his  sons  were 
to  catch  this  wonderful  bird,  he  added : 

"  There  is  another  bird  also,  called  an  '  Oh,  Had 
I,'  which  you  must  be  careful  not  to  mistake  for  the 
wonderful  'I  Have.'  The  'Oh,  Had  I'  is  very  beau- 
tiful, with  golden  wings,  and  a  breast  like  a  rainbow. 


66  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

His  song  is  sweeter  than  the  nightingale,  and  he  will 
promise  you  many  great  things,  provided  you  catch 
him,  which  it  will  seem  at  first  very  easy  to  do.  But 
as  no  one  has  ever  caught  him  yet,  while  many  have 
lost  themselves  in  pursuit  of  him,  I  advise  you  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  alluring  bird,  hut  be 
content,  if  you  can  only  be  fortunate  enough  to  catch 
an  <  I  Have.' » 

The  brothers  promised  faithfully  to  follow  their 
father's  counsel,  and  the  next  day  he  started  from 
home,  leaving  his  sons  to  act  as  they  thought  best  in 
his  absence. 

As  soon  as  their  father  was  gone,  the  two  brothers 
began  to  consult  how  they  were  to  get  at  the  wonder- 
ful '  I  Have,'  who  was  to  make  them  happy  by  laying 
golden  eggs. 

Klem  wanted  to  set  out  immediately  in  search  of 
the  treasure,  but  Carl,  who  was  a  prudent  fellow, 
recommended  his  brother  to  stay  at  home  until  they 
had  finished  some  work  which  they  were  fortunate 
enough  to  have  on  hand,  reminding  him  that  "  a  bird 
in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,"  and  that  ii 
would  be  soon  enough  to  set  out  after  the  work  was 
finished.  But  Klem  would  not  listen  to  his  brother's 
advice.  He  called  him  a  poor,  mean-spirited  fellow, 
to  stay  contentedly  at  home,  working  for  a  few  shil- 
lings, while  the  wonderful  treasure  bird  went  perhaps 


FIE,ESIDE     FAIRIES.  67 

nging  past  the  door,  or  was,  at  least,  so  easily 
lught, 

"  Yes,"  said  Carl,  "  if  you  go  to  the  right  place  to 
?ek  him." 

"  And  how  are  we  to  find  him,  if  we  don't  go  and 
tok  after  him  ?"  replied  Klem,  impatiently. 

Thus  Klem's  impatience  overcame  his  brother's 
rudence ;  and  inwardly  resolving  not  to  spend  too 
mch  time  in  pursuit  of  the  bird,  but  to  return  soon 
ad  finish  his  weaving,  Carl  carefully  locked  up  the 
oor  and  accompanied  his  brother. 

They  went  on  for  some  time  in  silence,  listening 
fctentively  to  every  sound,  and  hoping  to  distinguish 
le  cheerful  notes  of  the  treasure  bird.  Their  father 
ad  given  them  no  description  by  which  they  could 
istinguish  it  from  any  ordinary  songster.  But  while 
Jarl  remembered  that  he  had  told  them  it  was  not  a 
andsome  bird,  Klem,  whose  imagination  was  daz- 
led  by  the  description  of  the  "  Oh,  Had  I,"  blended 
he  two,  and  insisted  that  a  bird  who  could  lay  golden 
ggs,  must  necessarily  be  handsome  to  look  at. 

Thus  the  day  wore  away,  and  as  no  bird  had  met 
heir  view,  the  brothers  laid  down  and  slept  that 
ight  beneath  the  trees.  Carl  was  awake  the  next 
lorning  before  dawn,  and  aroused  his  brother,  telling 
tim  that  the  birds  would  soon  leave  their  nests,  and 
hey  would  then  have  a  good  opportunity  to  catch 


68  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.      . 

them.  Accordingly  the  brothers  waited  with  ej 
pectancy  the  moment  when  the  feathered  songstei 
should  begin  their  morning  lays. 

Presently  a  mingled  twittering  arose  from  th 
boughs,  and  forth  from  among  the  dew-laden  leave 
fluttered  the  little  minstrels,  tuning  their  pipin 
throats  for  their  morning  song. 

The  brothers  were  each  provided  with  a  ne 
which  they  carefully  spread,  and  caught  very  man 
birds  therein.  But  upon  examining  them,  they  foun 
them  all  ordinary  birds,  common  to  the  countr 
whose  eggs,  though  plentiful,  were  never  yet  know 
to  be  golden.  It  was  clear  that  the  wonderful  " 
Have  "  was  not  among  them,  and  so  they  liberate 
the  little  prisoners. 

Several  days  passed  in  this  manner,  without  su 
cess,  and  Carl  reminded  his  brother  of  his  father 
words,  that  the  "  I  Have"  was  generally  found  ne£ 
home,  while  they  had  wandered  many  miles  away,  an 
proposed  returning  to  their  work,  and  setting  out  i 
a  more  favorable  season,  as  perhaps  the  treasure  bir 
did  not  fly  at  that  time  of  year. 

But  Klem  was  determined  to  persevere ;  he  tol 
Carl  to  go  home  if  he  pleased,  but  he  would  not  retur 
without  the  wonderful  bird.  He  blamed  his  brotht 
for  being  so  easily  discouraged,  and  prophesied  that  h 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  69 

uld  be  nothing  but  a  poor  weaver  to  the  end  of  his 
ys. 

While  they  were  thus  arguing,  a  burst  of  rich 
iody  startled  them,  and  looking  up,  they  beheld  a 
Derb  bird  sitting  on  the  topmost  branch  of  a  tall 
e,  and  singing  melodiously,  while  his  plumage 
shed  in  the  sunlight  in  a  thousand  shades  of  the 
it  brilliant  colors. 

The  brothers'  hearts  beat  fast ;  this  was  assuredly 
]  treasure  bird,  as  they  had  never  seen  any  thing 
e  it  before,  and  they  endeavored  to  spread  their 
bs  so  as  to  entrap  it.  But  the  bright  bird  was  wary ; 
bent  his  graceful  wings  and  floated  almost  within 
)  brothers'  reach,  and  perched  himself  on  a  low 
inch,  looking  on  them  with  his  bright  eyes  most 
owingly ;  then,  when  they  were  sure  they  had  him, 
would  elude  their  grasp,  and  soaring  away  to  another 
e,  pour  forth  such  a  gush  of  melody  as  inspired  new 
lor  in  his  pursuit. 

Almost  insensibly,  the  brothers  were  led  on  after 
3  bewildering  bird,  who  constantly  deluded  them 
bh  the  hope  of  catching  him,  and  as  constantly 
taped. 

When  Carl  saw  how  impossible  it  was  to  entrap 
3  fascinating  bird,  he  remembered  his  father's  warn- 
5,  and  became  convinced  that  it  was  the  deceptive 
)h,  Had  I "  that  they  were  pursuing.     He  told  his 


70  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

brother  what  he  thought,  and  advised  him  to  ahand 
so  hopeless  a  chase  ;  but  Klem  would  not  listen  to ! 
word  he  said,  especially  as,  just  at  that  moment,  th 
bewitching  bird  perched  on  his  shoulder,  and  Klei 
was  certain  he  distinguished  these  words  in  his  song : 

"  Follow  me,  follow  me, 

Catch  me,  and  cage  me  ; 
Carl  can  go  home  if  he  please: 

While  he  starves  and  begs, 

I  will  lay  golden  eggs, 
And,  Klem,  you  can  sit  at  your  ease." 

Klem  cast  a  triumphant  look  at  his  brother,  an 
rushed  with  outspread  hands  after  the  songster,  wh 
had  soared  off  to  a  neighboring  bush ;  while  Car 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  his  brother  was  pursi 
ing  a  deceptive  "  Oh,  Had  I,"  shook  his  head  res 
lutely,  and,  bidding  him  farewell,  turned  his  stej 
towards  home. 

As  Carl  went  hopiewards,  he  turned  to  look  aft< 
his  brother,  and  shouted  to  him  to  return  ;  but  Klei 
would  not  listen,  and  Carl  soon  lost  sight  of  him  i 
Hie  distance. 

"When  Carl  arrived  at  home,  he  went  immediate] 
to  work,  resolved  to  banish  all  thoughts  of  the  tre; 
sure  bird,  at  least  for  the  present.  He  had  enoug 
weaving  to  keep  him  employed  many  days,  now  th* 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  71 

3  brother  was  not  with  him  to  assist ;  and  he  worked 
ray  late  and  early,  anxious  to  accomplish  his  task. 

When  the  neighbors  heard  the  steady  click  of  Carl's 
)m,  all  the  day  long,  and  far  into  the  night,  they 
ought  "  what  a  steady  industrious  fellow  is  Carl  the 
laver ;"  and  forthwith  one  told  the  other,  and  all 
3med  more  eager  than  ever  to  give  him  employment. 
is  work  was  well  and  punctually  done ;  people 
gan  to  remark  on  it,  and  thus  work  came  in  more 
jntifully;  Carl  was  kept  busy,  and  had  no  time 
go  in  search  of  the  wonderful  "  I  Have."  His  wants 
>re  simple,  and  daily  a  little  was  laid  by,  Carl  think- 
y  to  atone  in  a  measure  to  his  father  for  not  obtain- 
g  the  wonderful  treasure  bird. 

One  fine  summer  morning  Carl  was  singing  at  his 
>rk,  by  the  open  window,  when  suddenly  he  heard 
sweet  trilling  melody,  close  at  his  ear ;  and  there, 
rched  on  the  end  of  his  loom,  sat  a  tiny  brown  bird, 
th  bright  black,  eyes,  singing  away  in  the  merriest 
d  most  sociable  manner  imaginable.  It  looked  very 
:e  the  little  ordinary  forest  birds  that  become  tame  by 
eing  mankind,  and  often  fly  down  by  a  doorway  to 
ck  up  the  crumbs. 

Carl  was  pleased  with  the  familiar  air  of  his  littlo 
iitor,  and  held  out  his  hand,  saying,  "  You  are  a 
Sable  little  fellow ;  come  here  and  sing  me  another 
Qg  if  it  please  you." 


72  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

To  his  great  surprise  and  delight,  the  little  bir< 
obeyed  the  summons,  and  seating  himself  on  Carl' 
hand,  trolled  forth  a  merry  roundelay  in  a  manne 
so  irresistibly  comic,  and  with  so  many  trills  an< 
quavers,  that  Carl  was  perfectly  delighted  ;  an* 
when  the  little  warbler  paused  in  his  song,  and  fle\ 
away  to  the  window-seat,  Carl  hastened  to  sprea< 
crumbs  for  him,  hoping  to  entice  him  to  stay.  Th 
little  bird  picked  up  the  crumbs,  and  hovered  roun< 
the  open  window  all  day,  cheering  Carl  with  his  livel; 
songs,  and  in  the  evening,  after  the  weaver  had  finishe< 
his  work,  he  carefully  made  a  soft,  warm  nest,  an< 
placed  it  upon  one  of  the  beams  near  the  window,  a 
the  same  time  chirping  to  his  little  singing  friend 
and  inviting  him  to  enter. 

The  bird  seemed  to  understand  Carl's  invitatior 
and  soon  took  possession  of  his  comfortable  quarters 
After  this  the  little  brown  bird  became  Carl's  constan 
guest ;  all  day  long  cheering  him  with  his  merry  an< 
delightful  melody,  and  eating  the  crumbs  out  of  hi 
hand,  perching  on  his  shoulder,  and  exhibiting  th 
utmost  fondness  for  him. 

"  I  don't  believe  there  are  any  golden  eggs  in  you 
nest,  my  little  friend,"  said  Carl  one  day  to  his  bird 
"  for  I  have  seen  plenty  of  your  kind  before  ;  but  . 
wouldn't  exchange  your  pleasant  company  and  swee 
voice  for  any  '  I  Have'  in  the  land." 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  73 

The  little  brown  bird  flew  up  into  its  nest  at  this, 
d  there  burst  forth  in  such  a  gush  of  trillings  and 
averings,  that  Carl  was  fain  to  put  up  his  hand  to 
i  head  while  he  said,  laughing : 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  mean  to  disturb  your  nest, 
I  little  fellow ;  I  earn  enough  at  my  trade  for  us 
bh,  and  I  think,  when  my  father  sees  my  little  hoard, 
d  hears  your  pleasant  voice,  he  will  not  regret  the 
Have.'  I  wish  poor  Klem  would  come  home  again, 
d  we  could  all  be  happy  together." 

Months  had  passed  away,  and  no  tidings  had  been 
ird  of  Klem,  when  one  evening,  as  Carl  was  sit- 
g  at  his  door,  he  espied  his  father  coming  down 
3  road.  He  hastened  to  him,  and  a  joyful  meeting 
was,  you  may  be  certain. 

1 1  have  got  plenty  of  work,  Carl,"  said  his  father, 
er  they  were  seated  within,  "  for  the  fame  of  your 
lustry  has  reached  even  the  great  city  where  I 
ve  been,  and  we  need  never  be  idle  again  for  want 
^employment." 

Carl  then  told  his  father  the  adventures  of  Klem 
d  himself.     The  old  man  was  very  much  depressed 

the  news.  It  was  an  "  Oh,  Had  I"  that  had  be- 
iled  Klem,  and  he  feared  he  would  never  give  up 
3  chase. 

I  Yes,  poor  Klem  would  not  take  my  counsel,"  re- 
ed Carl,  sadly ;  "  but  I  have  a  dear  little  bird  here 
7 


74  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

that  keeps  me  good  company,  and  I  do  not  pine  aft 
the  wonderful  "  I  Have." 

As  he  spoke,  the  little  brown  "bird  jumped  up  i 
the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  sung  a  merry  lay,  in  whic 
to  his  great  wonderment,  Carl  plainly  distinguish* 
these  words : — 

"  The  nest  will  soon  break 
I  have  filled  for  your  sake, 
Then  build  me  another, 
As  soft  as  the  other, 
And  through  the  long  day 
While  you're  working  away, 
You  never  shall  weary, 
While  I  sing  you  be  cheery,  be  cheery." 

The  last  words,  "be  cheery,"  were  trolled  out  : 
every  variety  of  note,  and  as  the  lingering  cadeni 
died  away,  a  shower  of  golden  eggs  came  tumblii 
down  upon  Carl's  loom ;  the  little  brown  bird  sar 
away  louder  than  ever,  -and  Carl  stood  with  uplift* 
hands  and  eyes,  while  his  father  picked  up  the  gold 
You  may  be  sure  that  the  wonderful  little  1 
Have"  had  a  soft,  warm  nest  prepared  in  a  very  sho: 
time,  and  so  comfortable  did  he  find  his  quarters,  thi 
he  lived  with  Carl  all  his  life  ;  and  when  the  weave 
died  at  an  advanced  age,  the  little  brown  bird  san 
a  strain  of  triumphant  melody  as  he  soared  upward, 
as  though  he  would  fain  express  that  his  good  frien 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  75 

arl  had  laid  up  never-failing  riches  above.  Thus 
le  wonderful  "I  Have"  made  Carl  rich  and  con- 
jnted  during  his  life,  and  happy  in  death ;  but  as 
>r  poor  Klein,  nothing  more  was  ever  heard  of  him, 
ad  for  aught  we  know,  he  may  be  chasing  the  de- 
aptive  "  Oh,  Had  I "  even  until  now. 


"Is  that  all!"  exclaimed  the  children,  as  Aunt 
itsie  closed  the  manuscript. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  lady ;  "  I  read  you  a  short 
tory  this  time,  because  you  are  sleepy  and  tired." 

"  Oh  no,  we  are  not,  indeed  ;  the  story  was  a  great 
leal  too  short,"  cried  many  voices. 

"Be  cheery,  be  cheery,"  screamed  little  Lily;  "I 
Lm  the  little  brown  bird,  and  will  coax  another  golden 
story  from  Aunt  Elsie  to-morrow  night." 

The  children  all  laughed,  and  Bertha  Carrol 
said :  "  True,  Lily,  I  think  we  are  making  poor  appli- 
3ation  of  Aunt  Elsie's  beautiful  story,  not  to  be  con- 
tented with  the  <  I  Have,'  but  still  longing  after  an 
■  Oh,  Had  I.' " 

"  You  mean  a  longer  story,"  said  Norah  Graham ; 
;<  it  was  too  pretty  to  be  so  short.  I  wish  Aunt  Elsie 
had  spun  it  out." 


76  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

"It  sounds  like  a  German  story,"  said  Harry  Wil- 
der; "and  the  'I  Have'  personifies  Content,  of 
course." 

"  It  is  taken  from  a  German  fancy,"  replied  Aunt 
Elsie  ;  "  they  say  there  are  two  such  little  birds  in 
the  land,  and  they  call  them  '  Habtch  and  Hattch.'  " 

"  Droll  names  enough,"  laughed  Ernest ;  "  but  I 
like  the  story  much.  "  After  this  my  motto  shall  be, 
1  Contentment  is  great  riches." 

"I  wonder  what  became  of  Klem,"  said  Frank 
Field,  musingly ;  "  it  seems  so  natural  to  be  ever 
striving  after  the  bright  and  unattainable,  that  I  do 
not  wonder  at  his  choice." 

"  Take  care,  Frank,  don't  get  bewitched  by  an 
'  Oh,  Had  I,'  I  beseech  you,"  cried  Harry,  "  particu- 
larly with  such  a  sweet  little  '  I  Have '  ever  near 
you  ;' "  and  he  pointed  towards  Lily. 

Aunt  Elsie  gave  an  approving  smile  to  Harry 
Wilder.  She  knew  Frank's  sensitive,  dreamy,  poeti- 
cal nature  was  illy  fritted  to  encounter  the  hardships 
of  his  destiny,  and  she  saw  that  Harry  Wilder  under- 
stood him  thoroughly,  and  strove  to  strengthen  and 
cheer  him,  with  his  hearty  common  sense. 

George  had  sat  musingly  apart,  but  he  now  ap- 
proached Aunt  Elsie  with  a  pencil  and  paper  in  his 
hand.  "  Will  you  please  tell  me  how  to  spell  those 
German  words  ?"  he  said. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  77 

Aunt  Elsie  complied,  and  George  wrote  them. 
lown. 

"  And  what  use  are  you  going  to  make  of '  Habtch 
,nd  Hattch,'  may  I  ask?"  questioned  Aunt  Elsie, 
:indly. 

"  I  am  going  to  paint  the  i  Habtch'  on  my  sled," 
eplied  George,  frankly,  "  to  remind  me  always  to  be 
ontent  with  '  I  Have,'  and  let '  Oh,  Had  I'  alone." 

Aunt  Elsie  placed  her  hand  approvingly  on  the 
>oy's  shoulder,  and  Lucy  Parker  exclaimed : 

"  Farewell,  bright  visions  of  six  horses,  red  fea- 
hers,  and  bear  skins ;  Aunt  Elsie  can  never  be  an 
Indian  princess,  or  wear  the  cap  and  bells.  The  '  Oh, 
lad  I'  has  vanished  in  the  distance,  and  hereafter 
7e  must  be  contented  to  slide  down  hill  on  an  insig- 
dficant  '  I  Have.'  " 

"'I  Have'  is  a  great  possession,"  cried  Willie 
xraham,  with  his  mouth  full,  "  for  I  have  a  fine  brown 
[roller,  and  oh  had  I  some  nuts,  I  should  want  no- 
ting more,"  he  added,  as  Lily  caught  up  the  basket 
>f  nuts  and  ran  across  the  room,  exclaiming  : 

"  Fellow  them,  follow  them, 
Catch  them,  and  crack  them." 

The  whole  party  joined  in  the  chase,  amid  laugh- 
ng  and  singing,  and  after  obtaining  the  wished-for 


78  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

prize,  the  children  regaled  themselves,  and  in  due 
time  were  snugly  tucked  away  in  bed,  to  dream  oi 
"I  Haves  "and  "Oh,  Had  Is." 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


79 


CHAPTER  IV. 

|  A  story  !  a  story !"  cried  a  dozen  merry  voices,  as 
Aunt  Elsie  joined  the  little  group  on  the  following 
evening.  "  A  long  story  this  time,  if  you  please,  and 
let  it  be  just  as  pretty  as  the  one  of  the  little  brown 
bird." 

Aunt  Elsie  made  her  way  good-naturedly  amidst 
the  group  of  petitioners,  some  of  whom  were  cling- 
ing around  her,  whilst  others  arranged  the  lights,  and 
placed  the  footstool;  and  little  Lily  officiously  climbed 
up  on  a  chair,  to  unlock  the  old  bookcase. 

"Patience,  patience,  my  little  people,"  said  the 
old  lady,  as  she  witnessed  their  busy  arrangements. 
"  You  have  profited  but  little,  I  fear,  from  my  lesson 
on  the  merits  of  Slow  and  Sure ;  you  are  patterning 
after  Klem  now,  and  tumbling  head  over  heels  after 
<  Oh,  Had  I.'  " 

The  children  loudly  denied  Aunt  Elsie's  accusa- 


°®  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

tion  ;  and  as  they  seated  themselves  around  the  table 
Frank  Field  said : 

"I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps  it  is  not 
right,  after  all,  to  be  contented  with  things  just  as 
they  are,  for  then  we  would  never  be  anxious  for  im- 
provement." 

"  True,  Frank,"  answered  Harry  Wilder.  «  Sup- 
pose our  ancestors  had  been  satisfied  with  their 
clumsy  implements,  and  slow  coaches,  where  would 
now  have  been  our  machinery  and  railroads?" 

"Your  inferences  are  wrong,"  said  Aunt  Elsie. 
"The  spirits  of  discontent,  and  of  eager  inquiry  after 
knowledge,  are  entirely  dissimilar.      While  we   are 
taught  to  be  content  in  whatever  situation  we  are 
placed,  yet  we  are  nowhere  forbidden  to  improve  it 
by  every  lawful  exertion  ;  at  the  same    time,   it   is 
wise  not  to  forsake  a  real  good  for  a  fancied  benefit, 
and  like  Klem,  overlook  the  'I  Have,'  in  our  pur- 
suit of  <  Oh,  Had  I.'      I  never  yet  knew  a  discon- 
tented person  who  achieved  any  great  end,  while  one 
who  is  constantly  improving,  is  content,  simply  be- 
cause he  is  progressing  towards  ultimate  perfection." 
"  That  is  the  true  way  to  be  contented  and  happy," 
said  Ernest ;  "to  keep  one's  self  always  busy.    Father 
says  it  is  only  stagnant  water  that  becomes  impure— 
rapid  streams  are  always  clear  and  healthy." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Frank,  musingly,  "whether  any 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  81 

one  was  ever  contented;  it  seems  to  me  everyone 
wishes  for  something  that  he  has  not !" 

"  Yes,"  added  May  Lester,  "  and  when  they  ob- 
tain the  coveted  prize,  it  becomes  almost  valueless  to 
them,  and  they  sigh  for  something  more." 

"  If  it  were  not  for  this  feeling  there  would  be 
no  such  thing  as  hope,  and  we  would  never  be  happy 
without  hope,  you  know,"  replied  Grace. 

"I  remember  reading  a  story  somewhere,"  said 
George,  "  of  a  gentleman  who  posted  a  bill  upon  his 
house,  stating  that  the  place  would  be  given  to  any 
person  who  was  perfectly  contented,  and  when  any 
one  applied  to  him,  he  asked  them,  '  Are  you  per- 
fectly content  V"  When  they  answered,  '  Yes,'  he 
asked,  '  Then  what  do  you  want  with  my  house?'  " 

The  children  laughed,  and  Harry  remarked  : 

"  He  must  have  been  rather  a  cynical  philosopher, 
for  he  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  disappointing,  and 
ridiculing  others,  while  he  kept  his  property  safe." 

"He  was  a  very  selfish  man,  at  any  rate,"  re- 
marked Clara,  "  and  cruel  besides,  to  excite  expecta- 
tions he  never  meant  to  fulfil." 

"  I  have  often  noticed,"  said  Frank,  "  how  many 
people  seem  to  think  themselves  worse  off  than  any 
one  else,  when  they  have  a  great  deal  more  than 
most  folks  to  make  them  happy.  It  is  strange  that 
they  see  every  one  else's  good,  and  only  their  own  evil." 


82  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

Aunt  Elsie  looked  fondly,  yet  sadly,  on  the  little 
boy  as  she  answered,  smiling  kindly  on  him : 

"  Take  care,  my  dear  Frank,  that  you  do  not  be- 
come one  of  those  who  wilfully  stand  in  the  shade  of 
their  own  path,  and  grumble  at  the  sunlight  that 
falls  upon  that  of  another.  We  must  ever  strive  to 
remember,  that  whatever  troubles  or  trials  befall  us, 
they  are  directed  by  a  never  erring  Providence, 
who  ordains  for  us  those  burdens  we  are  most  able  to 
bear,  and  if  we  were  to  exchange  places  with  those 
whose  lot  seems  enviable,  we  would  find  it  accompa- 
nied by  some  sorrow,  for  which  we  were  entirely  un- 
fitted." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  the  '  Mountain  of  Miseries,' 
I  think  it  is  written  by  Addison,  in  which  every  one 
is  allowed  to  exchange  miseries  with  his  neighbor, 
and  after  a  trial  each  person  is  glad  to  take  up  his 
own  again,"  said  Bertha. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that,"  cried  Lucy  Parker,  "  and 
the  description  of  the  tall  man  exchanging  his  long 
legs  for  a  pair  of  short  ones,  made  me  laugh  enough. 
But  now  you  have  all  been  talking  so  sensibly  that  I 
dare  not  put  in  a  word  edgewise,  and  I  am  afraid 
the  evening  will  be  spent  without  Aunt  Elsie's  pro- 
mised story;  so,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  will  you  be 
content  to  finish  your  conversation  on  another  occa- 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  83 

sion,  and  enjoy  the  present  good  contained  in  yonder 
old  bookcase  1" 

The  younger  children  warmly  seconded  Lucy's 
proposition,  and  after  a  little  more  talking,  the  group 
settled  quietly  down,  like  a  swarm  of  bees,  and  the 
old  portfolio  being  produced,  Aunt  Elsie  selected  a 
manuscript,  which  she  said  had  some  bearing  upon 
their  conversation,  and  prepared  to  read.  Little  Lily 
petitioned  that  the  story  should  be  a  long  one,  as  she 
was  not  at  all  sleepy.  Norah  polished  Aunt  Elsie's 
glasses,  and  Jessie  shaded  the  light  to  suit  the  old 
lady's  eyes;  and  thus,  all  being  in  readiness,  the  little 
folks  listened  attentively  to  the  story  of 


€\t  lump;  Mi  tjp  tn%  $m. 

Once  upon  a  time,  no  matter  when — in  a  large 
city,  situated  no  matter  where — since  if  I  were  to 
tell  you  both  time  and  place,  it  is  not  at  all  likely  you 
would  take  a  long  journey  to  the  city,  and  search  its 
archives,  to  assure  yourself  of  the  truth  of  these 
wonderful  events  I  am  about  to  relate.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  on  the  veracity  of  a  chronicler,  that  the  story  is 
as  true  as  though  the  man  in  the  moon  had  told  it 
himself;  therefore,  be  satisfied  to  learn,  that  in  a  cer- 


84  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

tain  city,  at  a  certain  time,  lived  two  neighbors  who 
were  united  in  the  strictest  bonds  of  friendship  and  sym- 
pathy, each  being  equally  poor,  and  equally  afflicted. 

Andreas,  the  porter,  was  blest  with  a  nose  so 
enormously  large  as  to  cast  a  shadow  almost  as 
long  as  himself,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  very 
careful,  lest  in  turning  the  corners  of  the  streets  he 
should  give  his  poor  nose  an  unlucky  blow.  And 
the  pedestrians,  when  they  saw  a  long  shadow  creep- 
ing on  the  pavement,  always  stepped  aside,  saying 
with  contemptuous  pity,  "  Here  comes  Andreas, 
the  porter,  who  carries  his  greatest  burden  between 
his  eyes  and  chin." 

Besides  being  the  possessor  of  so  unusual  a  nose, 
poor  Andreas  had  taken  on  himself  another  trouble, 
in  the  shape  of  a  scolding  wife ;  who,  although  she 
never  failed  to  leave  a  nicely  prepared  supper  and 
clean  hearth,  ready  for  Andreas  on  his  return  home, 
yet  always  seasoned  his  food  with  so  many  gibes  and 
cross  words,  and  scolded  so  unceasingly  if  her  un- 
lucky husband  left  a  foot-print  on  the  bright  hearth- 
stone, that  the  tired  porter  would  have  been  better 
contented  to  go  supperless  and  cold  to  his  bed,  rather 
than  to  be  fed  and  warmed  at  the  expense  of  his 
quiet,  to  say  nothing  of  an  occasional  tweak  at  the 
ungainly  nose,  that,  as  the  wife  too  truly  said,  "  was 
continually  poking  itself  where  it  was  not  wanted/' 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  85 

and  she  might  also  have  added,  "where  its  unfor- 
tunate owner  had  no  idea  it  was  going." 

On  these  melancholy  occasions,  the  only  comfort  of 
the  unlucky  porter  was  to  take  his  pipe  and  step  into 
his  neighbor  Casper's  house,  sure  of  his  sympathy  and 
condolence.  Casper,  the  cobbler,  considered  himself 
the  most  afflicted  of  mortals,  for  he  was  doomed  to 
carry  upon  his  back  an  enormous  hump,  larger  than 
any  package  which  his  friend,  the  porter,  had  ever 
been  known  to  lift.  As  he  sat  all  the  day  pulling  out 
his  waxed  thread,  with  his  clamps  between  his  knees, 
the  smell  of  neighbor  Andreas'  savory  supper  came 
refreshingly  to  his  nostrils,  and  he  envied  him  the 
wife  who  could  prepare  his  food  so  seasonably. 

By  this  you  may  know  that  Casper  was  a  miser- 
able bachelor,  who  was  obliged  to  boil  his  own  coffee, 
and  attend  to  his  own  affairs,  since  not  a  woman  in 
the  country  could  be  found  willing  to  share  the  home 
and  poverty  of  the  humpbacked  cobbler. 

This  was  the  only  subject  upon  which  the  friends 
ever  contended,  each  insisting  upon  the  superior  ills 
of  his  individual  situation,  and  declaring  that  he 
alone  was  the  most  afflicted  and  miserable  creature 
on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

To  Andreas  the  hump  of  his  friend  seemed  only 
a  package,  never  laid  down,  and  he  preferred  the  thick 
8 


86 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES 


coffee  and  dirty  hearth,  to  his  own  tidy  home,  with 
the  ceaseless  accompaniment  of  a  scolding  wife  • 
while  Casper  considered  the  enormous  nose  of  his 
friend  the  porter,  as  a  mere  trifle,  compared  to  his 
everlasting  burden,  and  thought  the  warm  hearth  and 
good  suppers  cheaply  bought  at  the  expense  of  a  little 
quiet. 

While  affairs  were  in  this  condition,  the  friends 
strolled  out  one  evening  after  their  work  was  done, 
to  indulge  in  the  comfort  of  reciprocal  sympathy.  It 
had  been  an  unlucky  day  for  poor  Andreas ;  his  un- 
fortunate nose  had  met  with  several  severe  knocks 
and  his  tidy  wife  was  tidier,  and  in  consequence,  crosser 
than  ever.  Andreas  felt  very  unhappy ;  he  was  quite 
sure  that  he  was  the  most  miserable  man  alive,  and 
so  he  told  his  friend. 

Casper,  on  his  part,  insisted  that  his  misfortunes 
exceeded  his  friend's  tenfold,  inasmuch  that  there  was 
none  who  thought  enough  of  him,  even  to  give  him  a 
scolding  now  and  then.  The  dispute  waxed  warmer, 
until  the  two  friends  became  really  angry,  and  the 
argument  seemed  likely  to  end  in  blows,  when  Casper, 
who  was  just  about  shaking  his  clenched  hand  at  the' 
porter,  started  back  in  affright,  for  there,  comfortably 
seated  on  Andreas'  nose,  and  thumping  his  heels 
against  its  sides  as  though  it  were  a  horse,  appeared 
the  drollest  little  figure  imaginable. 

# 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  87 

He  was  not  higher  than  a  finger,  and  united  in  his 
own  tiny  figure  the  deformities  of  each  of  the  combat- 
ants ;  his  nose  being  as  long  as  his  legs,  and  the  hump 
upon  his  back  nearly  the  size  of  his  whole  body. 

This  comical  little  figure  wore  a  red  cap  with  a 
long  tassel,  and  his  small  black  eyes  twinkled  merrily 
beneath  a  mass  of  foxy -looking  hair. 

When  he  saw  that  Casper  had  observed  him,  he 
sprang  nimbly  off  the  porter's  nose  and  swung  himself 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree  that  grew  near,  then  seating 
himself  on  the  extreme  end  of  the  bough,  commenced 
laughing  immoderately,  to  the  no  small  wonderment 
of  the  friends,  who  knew  not  what  to  think  of  this 
strange  intruder.  After  a  few  seconds  he  recovered 
from  his  fit  of  merriment,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  shrill 
voice. 

"How  now,  what  child's  play  is  this?  Are  ye 
so  jealous  of  each  other's  beauty  that  ye  must  needs 
come  to  blows  about  it  ?" 

This  speech  increased  the  astonishment  of  the  two, 
and  the  dwarf,  seeing  their  looks  of  frightened  sur- 
prise, again  addressed  them. 

"Come,  come,  my  friends,"  said  he,  in  a  good- 
natured  tone,  "  never  be  afraid  of  one  so  much  like 
yourselves,  seeing  that  I  might  pass  for  the  brother 
of  either ;  I  mean  you  no  harm ;  tell  me  the  cause  of 


FIE.ESIDE     FAIRIES. 


your  quarrel,  and  who  knows  but  I  may  settle  it  to 
the  satisfaction  of  both  ?" 

Hearing  this  reasonable  address  and  kind  offer, 
the  friends  took  courage,  and  Casper,  who  (by  reason,; 
perhaps,  of  never  having  a  wife)  possessed  more  bra- 
very than  his  comrade,  told  the  dwarf  the  story  of 
their  respective  infirmities,  and  the  quarrel  that  had 
arisen  therefrom. 

You  may  be  sure  he  painted  his  own  troubles  in 
the  strongest  colors,  and  spoke  slightingly  of  the  por- 
ter's trials ;  but  Andreas  interrupted  him,  exclaiming 
loudly,  that  the  cobbler  was  a  prince,  beside  him,  and 
never  was  a  poor  mortal  so  afflicted  as  himself. 

To  ail  this  loud  and  angry  talking  the  dwarf  made 
no  answer  but  by  immoderate  peals  of  laughter,  and 
the  two  disputants  becoming  enraged  at  his  ill-timed 
mirth,  turned  to  quit  the  spot,  when  the  dwarf  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Stay,  my  worthy  fellows,  you  must  not  wonder 
at  my  laughing  that  you  should  be  so  anxious  to  get 
rid  of  what  I  consider  great  ornaments.  I  suppose 
now  you  would  call  me  deformed.  I  assure  you  I  am 
considered  the  handsomest  courtier  in  her  fairy  majes- 
ty's dominions.  But  since,  like  foolish,  short-sighted 
mortals,  you  are  not  satisfied  with  your  condition, 
what  say  you  to  an  exchange?     Andreas  shall  carry 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  89 

he  hump,  and  Casper  take  the  long  nose  and  scolding 
vife." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  cried  the  porter,  joyfully, 
:  and  never  have  I  shouldered  a  burden  so  readily." 

"  The  smell  of  your  suppers  is  very  savory,"  re- 
)lied  the  cobbler,  "  and  for  their  sakes  I  am  well  con- 
,ent  to  take  both  nose  and  wife,  in  the  bargain." 

"  Are  you  agreed,  then  ?"  asked  the  dwarf. 

"  That  we  are,"  cried  both ;  "  but  how  is  this 
lappy  exchange  to  be  brought  about  ?" 

"  Trust  that  to  me,"  answered  their  new  benefac- 
,or.  "  All  you  have  to  do,  is  to  take  each  a  lozenge 
>ut  of  the  box  I  will  give  you,  lay  it  on  your  tongue, 
md  go  home  as  usual,  Andreas  to  the  cobbler's  house, 
md  Casper  to  the  home  of  the  porter.  Then,  how- 
rver  it  may  seem  to  yourselves,  to  others  it  will  ap- 
)ear  that  you  have  completely  changed  persons.  Keep 
rour  own  counsel,  and  Casper,  beware  how  you  trust 
rour  new  wife  with  your  secret." 

The  dwarf  thought  he  had  made  a  fine  joke  at 
his,  and  fell  again  into  a  violent  fit  of  laughter ;  but 
uddenly  checking  himself,  he  said : 

"  As  I  foresee,  you  will  desire  some  other  change 
re  long,  I  will  grant  you  two  other  wishes,  on  con- 
lition  that  they  are  made  by  both  at  the  same  mo- 
aent.     See  here,"  and  as  he  spoke,  he  pulled  two 


90  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

strands  out  of  his  cap  tassel  and  knotted  them  firmly 
on  a  high  branch ;  "  whenever  you  agree  to  wish  fo] 
the  same  thing  at  the  same  moment,  come  to  this  tree 
and  with  your  united  strength  break  off  one  of  these 
threads  :  your  wish  will  then  be  accomplished." 

The  two  friends  were  highly  delighted  at  th.it 
promise,  and  after  repeatedly  thanking  the  dwarf 
who  sat  grinning  among  the  leaves,  they  each  accept 
ed  the  lozenge  that  he  offered,  and  carefully  marking 
the  particular  tree  on  which  hung  the  charmed 
threads,  hurried  gayly  on,  anxious  to  test  the  trutb 
of  the  dwarf's  promise. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Andreas  crept  timidlj 
past  his  open  door,  fearing  that  his  wife  would  recog- 
nize him,  and  call  him  in ;  while  Casper  stood  trem- 
blingly on  the  threshold,  watching  the  preparations  for 
supper,  and  inhaling  its  savory  odor,  doubtful  whe- 
ther he  should  enter.  Presently  the  porter's  wife 
looked  up,  and  seeing  Casper  peering  in  at  the  door, 
exclaimed  in  an  angry  tone  : 

"  What  are  you  standing  gaping  at,  ye  lazy  lout  ? 
here  is  the  meat  burnt  to  a  crisp,  waiting  your  snail's 
pace :  must  I  e'en  take  hold  of  that  long  nose  of 
thine,  and  drag  ye  in  to  supper  ?" 

This  speech,  though  it  startled  Casper,  convinced 
him  that  he  bore  his  friend's  likeness,  and  so,  pluck- 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  91 

up  courage,  lie  marched  in  and  seated  himself  at 
table,  without  speaking  a  word.  Owing  to  the 
mgeness  of  his  new  position,  and  the  fear  of  do- 
something  that  would  reveal  his  wonderful  se- 
I  poor  Gasper  did  many  awkward  things,  spill- 
•  the  salt,  upsetting  his  cup,  breaking  the 
cer,  and  pouring  the  hot  coffee  over  the  nicely- 
ded  floor.  These  things  called  down  a  volley  of 
,th  from  the  tidy  wife,  who  spared  neither  gibe 
hard  word  in  her  rage.  Casper  thought  the  best 
I  to  keep  peace,  was  to  keep  silent ;  and  so  man- 
d  to  eat  a  very  hearty  supper  despite  the  "  pepper- 
■  of  his  shrewish  companion.  After  supper  the 
3  bade  him,  in  no  very  gentle  terms,  to  shoulder  a 
je  parcel  that  laid  upon  the  floor,  and  carry  it  up 
he  loft ;  but  so  awkwardly  did  the  unlucky  Casper 
il  her  commands^  that  the  pack  tumbled  off  his 
k,  and  a  loud  crash  betrayed  the  ruin  he  had  oc- 
oned,  as  the  bundle  contained  several  necessary 
cles  of  housekeeping  that  the  thoughtful  housewife 
.  just  purchased. 

Here  was  a  catastrophe !  never  before  was  a 
r  man  so  assailed  and  abused.  Catching  the  un- 
iunate  wight  by  the  nose,  she  swung  him  round 
!  a  cat,  venting  at  the  same  time  all  manner  of 
ing  beside  many  blows  upon  his  devoted  head, 


92  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

and  concluding  her  scolding  by  telling  her  victim 
go  to  his  friend  the  cobbler  and  learn  to  stitch  leath< 
since  he  was  fit  for  nothing  else. 

As  Casper  crept  stealthily  to  the  door,  after  esca 
ing  her  grasp,  he  saw  the  porter  looking  warily 
at  the  window,  evidently  rejoicing  that  he  was  libc 
ated  from  this  thraldom,  and  enjoying  the  scene  I 
fore  him. 

Casper  hastened  to  join  his  friend.  Andre; 
chuckled  mightily  over  the  poor  cobbler,  and  d 
clared  the  dirty  hearth,  and  muddy  coffee,  to  be  tl 
most  delightful  things  in  existence,  enlivened  by  tl 
distant  sound  of  his  shrewish  spouse's  voice.  Whi 
Casper,  now  partially  recovered  from  his  bruises  an 
fright,  declared  himself  perfectly  willing  to  pay  tl 
penalty  in  consideration  of  the  hearty  meal  he  ha 
enjoyed. 

After  a  long  conversation  on  the  wonderful  evenl 
of  the  day,  Casper  carried  his  clamps  into  his  ne 
home,  glad  to  avail  himself  of  the  shrew's  permissio 
to  work  at  his  trade ;  while  Andreas,  who  was  igno: 
ant  of  shoemaking,  was  happy  to  proceed  in  his  ol 
vocation.  They  parted  with  mutual  self  congratuh 
tions  and  great  anticipations  of  comfort. 

Many  were  the  jeers  and  scoffs  that  Casper  wa 
doomed  to  bear,  when  on  the  following  morning  h 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  93 

Lted  himself  at  work,  in  leather  apron,  and  with 
,mps  between  his  knees. 

I A  fine  work  ye  will  make  with  tacking  and 
reading ;  all  the  gentry  will  come  to  you  with  their 
Des,  to  a  certainty.  We'll  be  rich  enough  now,  I 
>w."  These,  and  sundry  other  remarks,  were 
iired  into  the  poor  cobbler's  ears,  as  he  commenced 
i  task. 

But  he  found  full  soon  that  he  had  "reckoned 
ihout  his  host,"  as  the  saying  is,  when  he  took  up 
i  trade,  for  the  long  nose  was  terribly  in  the  way, 
i  received  so  many  stabs  from  the  awl,  and  knocks 
th  the  hammer,  that  he  was  fain  to  lay  aside  his 
rk  before  the  day  was  over,  amid  the  renewed  jeer- 
j  of  the  shrew. 

A  good  dinner  comforted  him  in  his  afflictions, 
I  he  determined  to  await  the  appearance  of  his 
3nd,  and  consult  what  was  best  to  be  done.  In  a 
)rt  time  the  poor  porter  came  toiling  up  the  street, 
ed  and  worn.  He  beckoned  to  Casper  as  he 
?sed,  and  went  in  his  new  home,  where  the  cobbler 
m  joined  him. 

"  This  will  never  do,  my  friend,"  cried  Andreas, 
•owing  himself  upon  a  seat  as  he  spoke.  "  This 
rfouuded  hump  is  burden  enough  without  shout- 
ting  any  other.     I  cannot  carry  half  as  much  as  I 


94  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

did  formerly,  and  am  tired  to  death,  without  hay: 
earned  enough  to  buy  my  supper." 

"My  case  is   equally  cruel,   I  assure  you," 
turned  the  other ;  "  since  I  find  it  impossible  to  dr 
out  my  awl  without  stabbing  this  unfortunate  nc 
that  I  so  foolishly  borrowed  of  you,  besides  bei 
forced  to  bear  all  the  abuse  of  your  delightful  wife 

At  this  the  porter  burst  into  a  laugh,  as  he 
plied :  "  It  was  droll  enough  to  hear  my  old  cus 
mers  asking  where  I  had  gone  to;  and  great  v 
their  astonishment  when  I  told  them  we  had  < 
changed  callings.  I  said  not  a  word  about  the  otl 
change,  of  that  you  may  be  sure." 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?"  asked  Casper,  do 
fully ;  "  we  will  both  starve  at  this  rate,  as  neither  c 
work  as  we  used  to  do.  Had  we  not  better  go  to  t 
wishing-tree,  and  wish  for  some  employment  that  w 
gain  us  a  livelihood  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Andreas,  thoughtfully,  « I  think  nc 
we  might  wish  for  something  better  than  that, 
have  it!  Let  us  wish  for  wealth,  riches  unbounde 
and  no  work.  What  say  you  to  that,  my  friend  ?" 
"Agreed,  with  all  my  heart!"  cried  the  oth< 
joyfully;  "and  let  us  go  this  moment.  What 
happy  thought  of  yours  that  was,  eh,  Andreas." 

Without  wasting  any  more  time  in  talking,  | 
two  hurried  forward  to  the  wishing-tree,  and  havii 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  95 

and  the  threads,  gave  a  hard  pull  together;  the 
ring  snapped,  and  just  then  they  heard  the  merry, 
ocking  laugh  of  the  dwarf,  but  could  see  no  one. 

Upon  returning  home,  Casper  found  his  scolding 
ate  very  busily  engaged  opening  a  large  chest  that 
pod  on  the  table,  while  another,  still  larger,  was 
aced  near  the  door.  Upon  seeing  her  supposed 
isband,  she  exclaimed : 

"  Come  hither  ye  lumbering  lout,  and  open  this 
Lest,  can  ye ;  ye  don't  deserve  the  good  luck  that 
is  befallen  you,  I  am  sure.  There !"  she  cried,  as 
asper  succeeded  in  forcing  the  lid — "  there  !  look 
.  that,  ye  scape-grace,  and  bless  your  stars  that  sent 
e  to  be  a  wife  to  ye." 

As  she  spoke,  she  lifted  out  a  handful  of  gold 
eces,  and  spread  them  on  the  table  before  the  aston- 
hed  Casper. 

"  Where — where,  did  this  come  from  ?"  he  gasped 
rth  at  last,  overpowered  by  the  sudden  accomplish- 
ent  of  his  wish. 

"  Why,  from  one  of  my  relations,  to  be  sure.  He 
ed  and  left  me  all  his  gold.  There,  read  that,"  and 
te  tossed  a  letter  towards  him. 

Poor  Casper  scarcely  knew  whether  he  stood  on 
s  head  or  heels,  at  this  unexpected  sight;  but 
ter  helping  the  dame  (whom  the  gold  had  put  in 


96 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


unwonted  good-humor)  to  secrete  the  prize,  he  has 
ened  to  tell  Andreas  the  wonderful  news. 

Upon  arriving  at  his  friend's,  he  was  surprised  1 
find  the  door  carefully  barred.  After  knocking  se 
eral  times  very  loudly,  he  saw  Andreas  peer  cai 
tiously  out  of  the  window,  and  upon  seeing  Casper,  I 
hastened  to  open  the  door  just  wide  enough  to  adm 
his  wondering  friend.  After  carefully  refastenin 
it,  Andreas  mysteriously  led  the  cobbler  into  tt 
room,  and  there,  displayed  upon  the  floor,  was  a  sigl 
that  renewed  Casper's  astonishment.  Twelve  larg 
pots  stood  side  by  side,  each  uncovered,  and  heape 
to  the  brim  with  shining  gold.  As  Casper  stoope 
to  examine  it,  the  porter  told  him,  how,  when  h 
went  to  boil  his  coffee,  upon  his  return  T  ne,  the  pc 
constantly  upset,  the  hearth  was  so  >ken  an 
uneven,  and  when  he  became  impatient  .id  raise 
up  the  hearth-stone,  to  endeavor  to  place  it  evenlj 
these  twelve  pots  of  gold  met  his  astonished  gaze 
He  then  cautiously  barred  the  door  for  fear  of  intei 
ruption,  and  proceeded  to  take  the  treasure  from  it 
hiding-place,  when  the  coming  of  his  friend  disturbe< 
him. 

This  was  the  wonderful  tale  that  Andreas  relate( 
to  the  cobbler,  who  in  return,  recounted  his  wonderfu 
accession  of  fortune,  through  his  wife's  relative. 

Both  were   of  course   convinced  of  the  dwarf; 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  97 

igency  in  this  matter,  and  parted  at  last  to  devise 
chemes  of  enjoying  their  newly  acquired  treasures. 

Before  long,  a  fine  house  appeared  upon  the  spot 
phere  the  miserable  hut  of  the  supposed  Andreas 
ately  stood;  a  handsome  garden,  full  of  beautiful 
rees  and  flowers  surrounded  it,  and  the  shrewish 
ady  of  the  mansion,  decked  in  the  gayest  ornaments, 
pent  about  telling  every  one  how  fortunate  her  hus- 
band was  in  having  her  for  a  wife. 

Casper,  meanwhile,  though  dressed  in  fine  clothing, 
nd  living  sumptuously  every  day,  was  far  from  happy, 
.^he  dame  continually  tormented  and  taunted  him  with 
is  dependence  on  her,  and  bewailed  her  sad  fate  in 
eing  united  to  such  a  fright  with  his  enormous  nose. 

"  If  it  were  only  a  hump  now,  like  our  neighbor 
ae  cobbler's,  one  might  cover  it  with  a  velvet  cloak," 
he  would  say,  "  but  this  horrible  nose,  it  constantly 
asts  a  shadow  on  the  path  of  my  enjoyment." 

In  society,  Capser  found  his  unfortunate  nose  a 
ibject  of  never-ceasing  merriment ;  and  this,  with 
is  spouse's  continual  bickering,  wasted  him  away  to 
shadow,  despite  his  good  fare. 

He  constantly  reproached  himself  for  exchanging 

mditions  with  Andreas.      "  Had  I  staid  as  I  was," 

e  would  say  to  himself,  "  I  should  have  found  the 

ots  of  gold  and  enjoyed  them  without  any  thanks  to 

9 


98  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

tills  abominable  woman ;"  and  so  lie  fretted  away  hi, 
time. 

Andreas,  on  his  part,  was  afraid  to  spend  anl 
thing  in  building  a  fine  house ;  he  had  a  continua 
dread  of  losing  his  beloved  gold,  and  spent  all  his  day 
counting  it  over,  to  be  certain  not  a  piece  was  losi 
He  denied  himself  food  and  drink  ;  his  money  wa 
his  existence :  at  night  he  could  not  sleep  for  fear  o 
robbers,  and  during  the  day  gloated  over  his  treasure 
thus  growing  more  miserable  and  miserly  every  da; 
his  life  wore  on. 

One  night,  Andreas  the  miser  fell  into  a  deep  bu 
troubled  slumber,  and  on  awaking,  his  first  though 
was  of  his  darling  treasure.  He  hastened  to  the  spo 
where  it  was  buried,  when  lo  !  two  of  the  pots  wer< 
gone ;  only  ten  remained !  Almost  distracted,  h 
counted  them  over  and  over  again  :  there  were  ten  an< 
no  more.  The  truth  burst  on  him  ;  he  had  been  rot 
bed,  plundered  while  he  slept !  Maddened  at  his  loss 
he  rushed  into  the  house  of  his  neighbor  Casper,  whon 
he  found  striding  up  and  down  his  splendid  apart 
ments,  looking  as  miserable  and  troubled  as  himself. 

"  Oh,  Casper,  Casper !"  cried  the  forlorn  miser 
"  I  am  ruined,  my  treasure  is  stolen ;  let  us  away  t< 
the  wishing-tree,  that  I  may  recover  my  lost  pots  o 
gold." 

"  To   the   wishing-tree,"   cried    Casper,  starting 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  99 

:i  yes,  with  all  my  heart."  And  without  farther  expla- 
nation off  they  started. 

Arrived  at  the  wishing-tree,  the  charmed  thread 
was  easily  found ;  and  Andreas,  grasping  one  end, 
pulled  with  all  his  might,  exclaiming,  "  My  treasure- 
pots  :  oh,  restore  my  treasure-pots !"  while  Casper, 
tugging  away  at  the  other  end  of  the  thread,  cried, 

"  I  wish  to  be  released  from  Andreas'  shrewish 
wife  and  his  long  nose  !" 

Thus  each  pulled  and  wished,  but  the  string  re- 
mained unbroken  until  Andreas  exclaimed  despair- 

"  What  are  you  saying  there,  Casper  ?  Wish  with 
me,  that  rny  two  pots  of  gold  may  be  restored." 

"  Your  pots  of  gold,  indeed  !"  retorted  the  other 
disdainfully  ;  "  you  have  plenty  without  them  ;  rather 
wish  with  me,  that  I  may  be  rid  of  the  torments  of 
my  life,  that  properly  belong  to  you." 

M  To  me,  do  you  say  ?"  cried  the  miser,  angrily. 
:'  Did  we  not  fairly  exchange,  and  have  I  not  this  into- 
lerable hump  to  constantly  remind  me  of  my  folly  ?" 

"  Your  folly  !  say  mine  rather,"  returned  the  cob- 
bler. "  Have  I  not  taken  two  burdens  off  your  shoul- 
ders for  the  one  I  have  put  on  ?  But  I  tell  you,  you 
are  a  fool  to  grieve  after  two  pots  when  you  have  ten 
left ;  so  come  wish  with  me." 

"  Never,"  cried  Andreas,  now  thoroughly  enraged, 


100  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

K  I  would  rather,  ten  times,  have  my  wife  and  long 
nose  again,  than  to  yield  one  inch  to  you." 

"  Done,"  cried  Casper,  quickly,  "  and  I  wish  you 
would  restore  my  hump  !" 

Even  as  they  spoke,  the  thread  snapped  in  their 
fingers ;  a  low  mocking  laugh  rang  out  upon  the  air, 
and  the  two  disputants  found  themselves  seated  upon 
the  greensward,  each  rejoicing  in  his  own  peculiar 
deformity.  For  a  few  seconds  they  looked  at  each 
other  in  a  state  of  great  bewilderment ;  then  Andreas 
gravely  gave  his  nose  a  sudden  tweak,  to  be  sure  of 
his  own  identity,  while  Casper  rubbed  his  hump  against 
a  tree,  to  be  certain  that  he  carried  his  burden  still. 

Each  thought  he  had  been  dreaming ;  but  as  one 
related  his  dream  to  the  other,  they  were  struck  with 
their  exact  coincidence  in  events.  So,  puzzled  and 
thoughtful,  they  wended  their  way  homeward,  expect- 
ing there  to  find  some  solution  of  the  mystery. 

Arrived  at  their  homes,  every  thing  wore  its  old 
accustomed  look.  The  poor  hovel  of  Andreas  and  the 
dirty  hut  of  Casper  stood  side  by  side  as  of  yore ;  no 
vestige  of  the  fine  house  and  garden  remained ;  but 
through  the  open  casement  came  the  savory  smell  of 
the  porter's  supper,  and  his  wife  wore  no  traces  of  her 
finery. 

They  had  gone  out,  just  before  sunset,  on  their 
accustomed  walk;    it  was  now  evening;  the  towns- 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  101 

folk  passed  and  repassed  as  usual ;  no  remarks  were 
made  as  to  their  absence,  or  of  any  unusual  occur- 
rence having  taken  place. 

Andreas  and  Casper  stood  thoughtfully  together, 
when,  to  their  great  surprise,  the  porter's  wife  came 
out,  and  remarking  that  they  both  looked  weary,  in- 
vited the  cobbler  to  share  their  evening  meal.  This 
unexpected  event  convinced  the  friends  that  they 
were  still  bewitched ;  and  during  supper,  Andreas, 
encouraged  by  his  wife's  wondrous  kindness,  related 
their  adventures.  She  was  very  much  surprised,  you 
may  be  sure ;  but  said  she  too  had  fallen  asleep  on 
their  departure,  and  it  seemed  but  a  short  time  since 
they  left  home. 

Thus  strangely  bewildered,  the  three  sat  around 
the  table,  when  Andreas's  wife,  who  had  some  sense 
as  well  as  temper,  spoke.  She  advised  them  not  to 
mention  their  visions  to  any  person,  as,  whether  it 
really  happened  or  not,  they  had  each  profited  by  the 
lesson ;  for  her  part,  she  would  try  and  curb  her  tem- 
per, and  Casper  should  live  comfortably  with  them, 
while  they  should  always  remember  that  "  Our  wishes 
are  not  always  our  good." 

Whether  some  good  spirit  had  been  busy  with 

them,  or  whether  it  took  the  combined  influence  of 

both  friends  to  soften  dame  Andreas's  temper,  cannot 

be  known ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  ever  after  the  three 

9* 


102 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


lived  in  perfect  harmony  and  peace,  until,  "  As  con- 
tented as  Casper  and  Andreas"  became  a  proverb  in 
the  town. 


Aunt  Elsie  closed  the  manuscript. 

"I  think  my  story  was  long  enough,  even  for 
Lily,"  she  said,  looking  at  her  watch  ;  "  it  is  now  bed- 
time." 

"It  was  a  droll  story  enough,"  cried  Ernest,  "and 
I  did  not  think  it  long." 

"  Nor  I,  nor  I,"  cried  each  voice,  as  they  rose  from 
their  seats,  and  prepared  to  put  aside  their  several 
employments. 

"  Its  moral  is,  that,  to  be  contented,  is  to  be  hap- 
py, is  it  not  ?"  said  Grace. 

"Yes,"  cried  Lucy  Parker,  "and  no  matter  how 
ugly  I  grow,  I  shall  never  fret,  even  if  my  nose  should 
rival  that  of  Andreas  the  porter." 

"  I  think  he  had  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Harry,  "with 
both  nose  and  wife  to  trouble  him.  Casper  was  a 
simpleton  to  exchange." 

"  Now,  Harry,  you  will  certainly  be  a  crabbed  old 
bachelor,"  laughed  Charles.  « I  will  argue  that  point 
with  you." 

"  A  truce  to  all  arguments  to-night,  my  young 
people,"  said  Aunt  Elsie,  rising;    "I  would  rather 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  103 

see  bright  eyes  in  the  morning,  than  hear  bright 
speeches  to-night;  we  have  overstaid  our  usual  hour." 
The  argument  was  therefore  indefinitely  post- 
poned, and  in  a  few  moments,  the  little  group  had 
quietly  dispersed  to  their  several  apartments. 


104  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

"  It  is  dead,  quite  dead,  I  fear,"  said  Jessie  Les- 
ter, sadly,  to  her  sister  May,  as  they  entered  the 
room  one  very  cold  morning,  after  their  return  from 
a  walk. 

May  put  aside  her  fur  tippet,  and  looked  tenderly 
down  on  the  little  bird  that  she  was  endeavoring  to 
warm  in  her  bosom.  It  was  a  robin,  that  the  sisters 
had  found  apparently  frozen  and  lifeless  on  the  snow, 
and  had  carried  home  with  them,  hoping  to  restore  it 
to  life. 

May  laid  the  stiffened  songster  against  her  rosy 
cheek,  and  folded  it  gently  in  her  hands,  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"  It  feels  warmer  now,  Jessie ;  I  hope  it  is  not 
dead.  If  you  will  untie  my  bonnet,  sister,  I  will 
wrap  the  dear  little  thing  in  my  fur  tippet,  and  warm 
it  near  the  fire." 

Jessie  did  as  May  desired,  and  the  sisters  knelt 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  105 

in  the  hearth,  and  making  a  nest  of  the  fur  tippet, 
aid  the  apparently  lifeless  bird  within  it,  and  watched 
t  with  tender  interest. 

"  What  have  you  there,  my  children  ?"  asked  the 
:ind  voice  of  Aunt  Elsie,  who  had  entered  unnoticed 
I  them,  and  was  now  looking  over  their  shoulders. 

The  story  of  the  frozen  robin  was  soon  told,  and 
|unt  Elsie,  smiling  kindly,  advised  them  to  get  a 
imall  covered  basket,  and  after  putting  some  soft 
jyool  or  cotton  in  it,  to  stand  it  in  a  warm  corner,  not 
;oo  near  the  fire,  as  she  did  not  think  the  fur  tippet 
vould  be  at  all  improved  by  its  present  use. 

The  basket  was  soon  procured,  and  as  May  lifted 
:he  bird  and  tenderly  placed  it  within,  she  was  sure 
me  felt  its  little  heart  beat  faintly  in  its  breast. 

The  children  had  all  returned  from  their  walks 
by  this  time,  and  many  were  the  anxious  peeps  into 
the  covered  basket,  despite  Aunt  Elsie's  repeated  in- 
junctions that  it  should  not  be  disturbed. 

Before  long  a  faint  fluttering  was  heard  in  the 
basket,  and  on  May  lifting  the  cover,  the  robin  hop- 
ped out  upon  the  floor.  He  was  weak  enough,  poor 
little  fellow,  and  seemed  unable  to  stand,  while  one 
wing  dragged  on  the  ground  as  if  it  were  hurt. 

At  a  word  from  Aunt  Elsie,  little  Lily  flew  off  for 
some  bread  crumbs,  which  were  softly  scattered  on 
the  hearth  so  as  not  to  alarm  the  little  stranger,  and 


106 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


then  the  children  concealed  themselves  behind  the 
window  curtains,  or  sat  perfectly  quiet  in  the  far  cor- 
ners of  the  room,  watching  intently  the  motions  of 
the  redbreast.  He  seemed  frightened  and  bewildered 
at  first,  but  gradually  gaining  confidence,  as  he  found 
all  still  about  him,  ventured  to  pick  up  the  crumbs, 
hopping  around  with  increased  spryness,  and  lifting 
up  his  head  and  winking  his  bright  eyes,  to  the  great 
delight  of  his  attentive  audience. 

Little  Lily  could  scarcely  contain  her  delight,  as 
growing  bolder,  he  hopped  upon  the  ottomans  and 
chairs,  and  seemed  to  become  familiar  in  his  new 
home. 

"  Little  bird  with  bosom  red, 
Welcome  to  my  humble  shed," 

cried  Lily,  as  the  robin  hopped  on  the  sofa  near  the 
window,  where  she  stood. 

"  Daily  round  my  table  steal, 
While  I  pick  my  scanty  meal," 

added  Lucy  Parker,  holding  forth  both  hands  full  of 
dough-nuts. 

The  children's  merry  laugh  startled  the  little  fel- 
low at  first;  but  as  they  gradually  crept  out  from  their 
hiding-places,  and  scattered  crumbs  before  him,  he 
became  quite  tame,  to  the  no  small  delight  of  his  'new 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  107 

friends,  and  the  imminent  danger  of  Aunt  Elsie's 
carpet,  from  cake  and  bread  crumbs  every  where 
showered  upon  it. 

With  instinctive  gratitude,  the  robin  seemed  to 
attach  himself  to  May  Lester,  and  ventured  after  a 
while  to  perch  upon  her  hand,  and  eat  the  crumbs 
that  Jessie  offered  him.  Never  was  king  on  his  throne 
more  waited  upon  and  followed  than  this  little  robin 
redbreast.  After  he  had  quite  recovered,  a  consulta- 
tion arose  as  to  what  should  be  done  with  the  new 
favorite.  Some  thought  it  cruel  to  cage  him  ;  others 
opposed  his  going  out  into  the  snow  lest  he  should 
freeze  to  death,  as  his  wing  was  found  to  be  hurt,  so 
as  to  disable  him  from  flying  far. 

It  was  finally  concluded  to  keep  him  that  day,  as 
he  seemed  so  well  contented  in  his  new  home,  and  to 
open  a  window  on  the  following  morning,  giving  him 
an  opportunity  to  escape,  if  he  liked.  This  point 
being  settled,  the  children  amused  themselves  nearly 
all  day  watching  and  feeding  the  feathered  favorite. 
He  showed  no  inclination  to  sleep  when  the  lights 
were  first  brought  in,  and  it  was  not  until,  having 
found  a  dark  corner,  he  perched  himself  on  the  top 
of  the  old  bookcase,  with  his  head  under  his  wing, 
that  the  children  grouped  themselves  around  the 
table,  and  begged  Aunt  Elsie  for  another  story. 

Aunt  Elsie   good-naturedly  put  aside  her  work 


10^  FIRESIDE    FAIRIES. 


and  complied  with  their  request,  by  reading  the 
following  storj  of 


£%  M%  Jtrit  %  liter  %tm. 

Every  one  in  the  village  loved  little  Florette,  and 
what  wonder,  when  she  was  so  gentle  and  so  good? 
Not  only  all  the  villagers,  but  even  the  dumb  anij 
mals  loved  her,  and  felt  pleasure  at  her  approach. 
The  little  court-yard  in  front  of  her  grandmother's 
cottage  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  was  crowded  every 
morning  with  robins  and  swallows,  who  waited  the 
coming  of  Florette  to  give  them  their  breakfast,  and 
who,  after  satisfying  their  hunger  with  the  crumbs 
that  she  scattered  plentifully  before  them,  flew  off  to 
the  neighboring  trees  and  sang  a  sweet  chorus  of 
thanks. 

Florette  lived  quite  alone  with  her  aged  grand- 
mother, and  was  the  old  lady's  sole  nurse  and  com- 
pany. NeVer  was  there  a  more  faithful  and  patient 
attendant ;  always  cheerful,  willing,  and  happiest  when 
most  employed.  No  wonder  her  grandmother  loved 
her  child  better  than  all  the  world  beside 

Little  Florette  went  out  into  the  shady  woods, 
early  one  lovely  summer  morning.     She  had  risen 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


109 


oftly  so  as  not  to  disturb  her  grandmother  who  was 
ist  asleep,  and  after  carefully  drawing  the  muslin 
urtain,  and  closing  the  shutters,  to  shade  the  light 
rom  the  sleeper's  eyes,  tripped  lightly  down  stairs 
nd  out  into  the  garden,  to  gather  a  fresh  bouquet  of 
ragrant  flowers  to  adorn  the  breakfast  table. 

It  was  yet  very  early,  the  grass  bent  beneath  the 
reight  of  the  dew-drops,  and  the  bright  sun  was  just 
)eeping  over  the  tops  of  the  tall  trees,  and  striving 
o  get  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  flowers  that  grew  be- 
teath  their  shade.  The  fresh,  pure  breeze  lifted  the 
jolden  curls  from  off  the  brow  of  Florette,  and  tinged 
ler  cheek  with  the  hue  of  her  favorite  rose. 

The  little  girl  enjoyed  the  beauty  and  freshness 
hat  every  where  surrounded  her,  and  went  gayly  on, 
varbling  a  few  notes  in  unison  with  the  newly 
iwakened  birds,  or  running  swiftly  forward  to  meet 
he  breeze  that  she  loved  to  feel  among  her  hair. 

The  bouquet  was  gathered,  but  in  Florette's  eyes 
ts  greatest  charm  was  absent.  The  child  loved 
lowers  as  though  they  had  been  living  things ;  to 
ler  they  seemed  to  speak  with  many  voices,  and  to 
be  conscious  of  her  tender  care. 

But  the  wild  flowers  were  her  dearest  favorites, 

and    the    spots   where   they  grew,   her    accustomed 

haunts.     None  knew  so  well  where  the  modest  violet 

dwelt  in  its  shaded  home,  or   the  mountain   daisy 

10 


110  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

flecked  the  hill-side.  Every  wooded  dell  had  been 
explored  in  the  little  flower-seeker's  rambles  after 
the  brilliant  golden  rod,  and  lace-like  alder  blossom ; 
•  and  each  brook-side  bore  the  prints  of  her  tiny  foot- 
steps, as  she  sought  the  fairy-like  forget-me-not,  that 
loves  to  bathe  its  soft  leaves  in  the  stream. 

Little  Florette  went  gayly  on  through  brake  and 
brier,  in  search  of  her  wildwood  favorites,  that  their 
sweet  breath  might  mingle  with  that  of  their  more 
cultivated  sisters  of  the  garden.  The  sun  had  not 
yet  penetrated  the  thick  foliage,  and  the  blossoms 
seemed  timidly  awaiting  his  coming. 

As  the  little  girl  parted  the  twigs  and  branches 
that  wove  themselves  into  a  natural  trellis  across  her 
path,  she  suddenly  uttered  an  exclamation  of  de- 
lighted surprise,  for  there,  just  at  her  feet,  grew 
the  loveliest  flower  that  had  ever  met  the  gaze  of 
the  enraptured  child.  The  boughs  had  intertwined 
again,  as  she  withdrew  her  hand,  and  she  found 
herself  standing  upon  a  soft  greensward,  surrounded 
with  lofty  trees,  while  close  beneath  their  shade  was 
the  lovely  flower. 

It  was  a  lily  of  such  rare  and  dazzling  whiteness, 
as  would  shame  the  fairest  of  its  garden  rivals,  while 
its  fragrant  breath  floated  like  incense  on  the  sum- 
mer air.  The  bud  was  not  yet  fully  opened,  but 
bowed  its  beautiful  head,  as  though  wearied  with  the 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  Ill 

weight  of  diamond  dew-drops  that  oppressed  it,  or  like 
a  captive  princess,  in  the  power  of  an  enchanter, 
who  bound  her  with  a  chain  of  gems,  that  it  needed 
hut  one  smile  from  the  golden  sun  to  dissolve. 

Little  Florette  gazed  upon  the  flower  awhile  in 
perfect  delight ;  then  she  advanced  to  pluck  it  from  its 
stem,  and  place  it  with  those  she  had  already  gath- 
ered. She  paused ;  it  seemed  so  pure  in  its  stately 
solitude,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  spoil  its  beauty. 
With  a  steady  hand  she  parted  the  foliage  of  the 
tree  that  shaded  it  most,  and  a  bright  golden  sun- 
beam poured  in  through  the  aperture,  and  rested  like 
a  crown  upon  the  lovely  flower. 

With  a  smile  on  her  lips,  as  radiant  as  the  sun- 
beam itself,  Florette  looked  fondly  on  the  lily ;  she 
thought  it  seemed  to  enjoy  the  mild  morning  beam, 
and  lifted  its  head  slowly  from  the  stem.  A  long 
while  stood  the  patient  child,  keeping  back  the  en- 
vious leaves  that  sought  to  shut  out  the  sunshine 
from  the  beauteous  forest  flower,  and  as  she  gazed 
delightedly  upon  it,  she  was  sure  that  its  leaves  un- 
folded slowly,  and  the  dew-drops  disappeared,  until 
it  rested  amid  its  dark  green  leaves,  like  a  queen  on 
an  emerald  throne,  and  proudly  met  the  golden  sun- 
beam. 

The  little  girl  was  happy  in  the  evident  enjoy- 
ment she  had  given  the  stately  flower,  when,  even  as 


112  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

she  gazed  upon  it,  the  leaves  opened  and  spread  more 
and  more,  and  forth  from  the  heart  of  the  flower  ap- 
peared a  tiny  form,  white  and  radiant,  while  the  lily 
seemed  like  a  pearl  shell  beneath  her  feet.  She  rested 
lightly  upon  the  floweret's  edge  as  it  swayed  gracefully 
in  the  breeze,  and,  mingled  with  the  sweet  fragrance 
it  exhaled,  these  words  were  borne  to  the  ear  of  the 
wondering  child : 

"  Bright  as  the  sunbeam  that  set  me  free, 
Little  Florette,  shall  thy  pathway  be, 
And  ever  more  shall  a  silver  ray 
Light  thy  steps  in  thine  onward  way. 

Tears  of  sorrow,  clouds  of  care, 

In  thy  presence  no  heart  shall  bear  ; 

As  the  diamond  chain  from  my  bosom  fell, 

Shall  human  grief  vanish  beneath  thy  spell. 

Blossoms  bright  shall  round  thee  spring, 
Odors  sweet  their  fragrance  fling  ; 
Little  Florette,  thou  hast  set  me  free, 
Blessing  and  blest  shall  thy  future  be." 

In  her  amazement,  Florette  had  let  the  branches 
spring  back  from  her  hold,  and  as  the  sunlight  left 
the  flower,  the  fairy  figure  faded  into  air.  When  the 
little  girl  ventured  to  approach  the  plant,  she  saw  no- 
thing more  than  the  rich  and  lovely  lily  that  had  first 
attracted  her. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  113 

Thoughtfully  Florette  left  the  wood  ;  she  gathered 
o  more  wild  flowers  ;  all  her  thoughts  were  upon  the 
wonderful  lily.  She  remembered  to  have  read  in  some 
Id  fairy  tale,  how  beautiful  spirits  were  imprisoned 
a  .trees  and  flowers,  and  she  felt  sure  that  she  had 
mknowingly  liberated  one  of  them.     She  was  happy 

0  think  the  lovely  lily  fairy  was  freed  through  her 
aeans,  but  she  never  mentioned  her  unobtrusive  acts 

1  kindness,  and  so  said  not  a  word  to  any  one  of  her 
.dventure  in  the  woods. 


"  Take  care,  dear  grandmother,"  said  Florette,  as 
ihe  tenderly  supported  the  old  lady's  steps  in  her 
tfternoon  walk,  "  take  care  ;  there  are  stones  in  the 
>ath,  and  I  fear  you  will  stumble,"  and  she  stooped 
iown  to  remove  them  from  the  way. 

"Bless  the  dear  child,"  answered  the  old  lady, 
?ondly,  "  I  always  see  better  when  you  are  with  me  ; 
.ook  there  now,  what  a  bright  sunbeam  falls  just  be- 
fore me  !  and  why,  Florette,  where  did  you  find  lilies 
to  weave  that  wreath  that  you  wear  ?" 

The  grandmother  placed  her  hand  on  the  head  of 
bhe  little  girl  as  she  spoke,  and  finding  no  flowers 
there,  smiled  as  she  added,  "  Nay,  my  old  eyes  have 
deceived  me,  it  was  but  the  sunlight  flickering  through 

the  leaves." 

10* 


114  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

Florette  made  no  reply ;  but  she  wondered  in  her 
heart  whether  she  did  not  wear  a  wreath  woven  by 
the  lily  fairy. 

It  was  strange  how  often,  after  this,  the  sunshine 
and  the  leaves  formed  magical  crowns  on  the  "brow  oi 
the  little  girl.  Frequently,  when  at  play  with  her 
companions,  or  performing  some  little  act  of  kindness 
for  them,  would  they  exclaim,  "  Florette  is  crowned 
with  lilies !" 

But,  upon  grasping  the  apparent  flowers,  the  wreath 
proved  nothing  more  than  shadows  on  her  hair. 

The  good  old  gardener  declared  that  the  sunshine 
grew  brighter  when  Florette  came  near,  and  thai 
every  flower  flourished  upon  which  she  smiied ;  while 
throughout  all  the  village  her  presence  seemed  to  shed 
a  light  and  joy.  Old  and  young  felt  this  magic  influ- 
ence, and  loved  the  little  girl. 

It  happened  one  pleasant  afternoon,  that  a  partj 
of  the  village  children  went  out  into  the  woods  tc 
gather  blackberries.  They  each  took  a  little  basket 
with  cake  or  biscuit,  and  promised  to  return  home  at 
sunset. 

Florette  was  not  one  of  the  number.  Her  grand 
mother  was  not  very  well  that  afternoon;  and  the 
little  girl,  though  repeatedly  urged  by  the  old  ladj 
and  some  kind  neighbors,  who  promised  to  stay  and 
take  care  of  her,  and  coaxed  by  her  companions,  yet 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  115 

teadily  refused  to  leave  her  grandmother,  and  so  re- 
lained  at  home,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  the 
ttle  party. 

Florette  saw  them  depart  without  one  feeling  of 
egret  or  impatience;  and  as  she  returned  to  her 
randmother's  side,  the  old  lady  smiled  again  at  her 
wn  fancy,  for  she  thought  she  saw  a  crown  of  radiant 
Hies  among  the  curls  of  her  grandchild. 

Long  after  sunset,  the  little  party  returned,  wea- 
led and  very  sad.  With  many  tears  and  hursts  of 
;rief,  they  told  how  one  of  their  number  was  missing, 
!nd  could  nowhere  be  found.  It  was  little  Eddie,  the 
>nly  son  of  the  lame  widow.  His  mother,  yielding  to 
lis  wishes  and  the  earnest  entreaties  of  the  children, 
lad  allowed  him  to  go  under  the  charge  of  his  sister, 
ffho  promised  very  faithfully  not  to  lose  sight  of  him 
?or  a  moment. 

He  was  a  little  fellow,  scarcely  four  years  old, 
md  growing  weary  with  the  walk,  the  children 
seated  him  on  a  bank,  with  plenty  of  cakes  and 
Bowers,  while  they  went  a  few  paces  farther,  where 
the  blackberries  grew.  They  could  see  him  as  he  sat 
there  contentedly  beneath  the  trees.  Presently  they 
went  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  bushes,  and  the 
leaves  hid  him  a  few  moments  from  their  sight.  When 
they  returned  Eddie  was  gone ! 

With  eager  steps  they  ran  to  seek  him,  thinking 


116  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

he  could  not  have  strayed  far;  but  in  vain  they 
divided  into  groups  and  explored  the  woods,  making 
the  forest  echo  to  their  calls.  The  child  was  gone ; 
and  fearing  they  would  themselves  be  lost,  they  hast- 
ened home  to  tell  the  mournful  tale. 

Every  one  in  the  village  sympathized  with  the 
poor  widow,  who  was  almost  crazed  with  grief.  Eddie 
was  a  universal  pet,  and  all  the  neighbors  volunteered 
at  once  to  go  in  search  of  him,  as  they  thought  he 
could  not  have  strayed  far,  but  had  probably  fallen 
asleep  through  weariness. 

None  grieved  more  for  the  lost  child  than  Flo- 
rette ;  he  was  her  own  darling,  her  especial  favo- 
rite, and  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheek  as  she 
listened  to  the  story.  After  sitting  thoughtful  and 
silent  for  a  while,  she  suddenly  rose,  and  standing 
close  by  her  grandmother's  side,  said : 

"  Grandmother,  let  me  go  and  search  for  Eddie,  I 
can  find  him,  I  am  sure." 

The  old  lady  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"Why,  darling,"  she  replied,  "it  is  now  almost 
dark ;  you  would  get  lost  yourself,  in  the  thick  woods. 
Our  kind  neighbors  have  gone  after  him ;  they  will 
bring  him  safely  back." 

But  Florette  sunk  on  her  knees,  and  looking  up 
pleadingly,  kept  repeating ; 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  117 

«  Let  me  go,  grandmother,  I  can  find  him,  I  am 

ure." 

The  grandmother  shook  her  head,  and  was  about 
o  refuse,  when  again  she  saw  the  wreath  of  lilies 
■esting  on  the  brow  of  the  suppliant  child.  The  slen- 
ler  new  moon  was  just  rising,  but  a  beam  brighter 
han  moonlight  shone  upon  the  little  pleader,  and 
ighted  up  her  tearful  face. 

A  feeling  almost  of  awe  crept  over  the  aged  pa- 
rent, and  laying  her  withered  hands  in  blessing  upon 
bhat  fair  young  head,  she  said  softly : 

"Go,  dear  child;  I  feel  that  no  harm  will  befall 
you.  Had  you  been  with  them,  this  would  not  have 
been.  You  staid  for  my  sake,  go  now  with  my  bless- 
ing, and  all  good  angels  guard  you." 

Florette  waited  no  second  bidding,  but  thanking 
and  kissing  her  grandmother,  hastened  out.  She 
stopped  to  beg  one  of  the  neighbors  to  stay  with  the 
old  lady  while  she  was  gone,  and  without  waiting  for 
any  questioning,  ran  rapidly  on. 

It  was  growing  dark;  the  shadows  of  the  trees 
were  long  upon  the  grass;  the  moon  was  not  full 
enough  to  give  much  light,  and  as  the  little  girl  pene- 
itrated  farther  into  the  woods,  the  thick  foliage  shut 
(out  the  stars  and  fading  twilight,  so  that  she  could 
(scarcely  see  the  way. 

But  Florette  was  not  conscious  of  the  increasing 


118 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES, 


darkness  ;  she  knew  all  the  green  alleys  and  by-paths 
of  the  forest  by  heart,  and  intent  upon  her  purpose 
went  fearlessly  on,  calling  loudly  the  name  of  Eddie 
and  parting  the  twigs  with  unwearied  hand,  in  the 
hope  of  finding  the  lost  favorite.  Ever  as  she  walk- 
ed, a  silvery  light  seemed  to  fall  upon  her  path,  en- 
abling her  to  explore  thickets  that  to  another  would 
have  been  impenetrable. 

Long  time  she  pursued  her  fruitless  search,  her 
heart  beating  with  hope  as  the  echoes  returned  her 
call,  or  a  startled  bird  rustled  the  leaves  near  her. 
She  had  wandered  very  far,  and  even  her  hopeful 
courage  began  to  fail  as,  wearied  and  desponding,  she 
found  herself  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  tall  trees 
and  thick  underbrush,  without  any  apparent  opening. 
As  she  looked  anxiously  around,  not  knowing 
which  way  to  turn,  these  words  came,  like  the  sighing 
of  a  light  summer  breeze,  floating  towards  her : 

"  Little  Florette,  gentle  and  good, 
Follow,— we'll  lead  you  out  of  the  wood." 

The  wondering  child  looked  down  at  these  words, 
and  there,  as  far  as  she  could  see  by  the  faint  light, 
appeared  a  row  of  stately  lilies,  marking  with  their 
white  flowers  a  direct  pathway  before  her. 

With  a  glow  of  gratitude,  not  unmixed  with  awe, 
Florette  followed  the  track  of  the  radiant  lilies.  They 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  ]  19 

eemed  to  spring  up  before  her  as  she  went,  until 
hey  led  her  out  of  the  thick  woods  to  an  open  space, 
'here  a  brook  rippled  through  the  grass  and  amid 
be  trees. 

The  little  girl  paused  an  instant,  and  then,  with  a 
ry  of  delight,  sprang  forward,  for  there,  upon  the 
mooth  turf,  with  his  curly  head  pillowed  on  his  dim- 
led  arm,  lay  the  little  wanderer,  the  lost  Eddie,  fast 
sleep ! 

Florette  threw  herself  by  his  side,  and  almost 
lined  him  with  kisses,  while  tears  of  joy  and  thank- 
dness  showered  upon  him.  But  the  little  runaway 
as  too  weary  to  be  thoroughly  aroused.  He  seemed 
mscious  of  her  presence,  for  faintly  returning  her 
tresses,  and  murmuring,  "  My  own  Flory,"  he  nestled 
I  head  in  her  lap,  and  fell  fast  asleep  again. 

As  Florette  folded  the  tired  wanderer  in  her  arms, 
ie  knew  not  what  to  do.  Eddie  was  not  able  to 
ilk  home,  even  if  she  could  succeed  in  retracing  her 
eps,  and  she  was  afraid  to  stay  out  in  the  woods  all 
ght.  While  she  sat  undecided,  a  delicious  frag- 
nce  breathed  around  her,  and  again  invisible,  she 
ard  sweet  voices  say  : 

"  Sleep,  Florette,  without  a  fear, 
Kindly  spirits  guard  thee  near, 
And  the  stars  with  eyes  of  love, 
Look  upon  thee  from  above. 


120  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

Lilies  fair  shall  make  thy  bed, 
Pillow  soft  thy  weary  head, 
Calmly  shalt  thou  take  thy  rest, 
Safe  as  on  a  mother's  breast. 

As  the  beam  that  set  me  free, 

So  shall  thine  awakening  be, 

Grief  shall  change  to  pure  delight ; 

Sleep  till  morn.     Good  night,  good  night." 

As  the  last  note  floated  on  the  air,  Florette  seem- 
ed to  feel  gentle  arms  twining  round  her,  and  sweet 
breaths  fanning  her  brow ;  a  sense  of  happiness  and 
security  stole  over  her,  and  she  slept. 

Florette  awoke  with  a  start ;  it  was  early  dawn ; 
the  sun  was  tinging  the  tree-tops,  and  glancing  on 
the  brook.  The  little  girl  thought  she  had  been 
dreaming ; — she  looked  down,  there  nestled  Eddie, 
yet  asleep  in  her  lap.  Many  faces  clustered  about 
her,  voices  sounded  in  her  ears  ;  in  an  instant  the  lost 
child  was  clasped  in  his  mother's  arms  ;  and  Florette 
found  herself  surrounded  by  her  friends. 

Many  questions  they  asked,  as  to  how  she  tracked 
the  wanderer,  but  she  could  tell  them  nothing,  save 
that  she  sought  and  found  him.  They  told  her  how 
they  had  given  up  the  search  at  night,  and  returned 
at  daybreak  ;  how  they  had  followed  the  course  of  the 
brook,  fearing  Eddie  was  drowned,  and  had  found 
them  both  sleeping  there, 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  121 

They  saw  them  at  a  distance  they  said,  and  they 
eemed  to  be  lying  upon  a  bed  of  lilies,  while  the 
/hite  and  pure  flowers  bent  over  the  sleepers  as 
hough  shielding  them  from  harm.  But  when  they 
ipproached  nearer,  they  found  nothing  but  the  green 
>ank,  and  the  sunshine  flickering  amid  the  leaves, 
hough  a  sweet  fragrance  floated  on  the  air. 

As  Eddie  was  carried  home  in  triumph,  and  Flo- 
ette,  regardless  of  her  wounded  feet,  tripped  joy- 
usly  along  with  her  hand  clasped  in  that  of  the 
:;rateful  mother,  what  blessings  and  praises  were 
howered  upon  her,  and  the  widow  exclaimed : 

"Look  now,  Florette  wears  the  crown  of  lilies — 
>ut  no,"  she  added,  as  she  laid  her  hand  fondly  on 
he  child's  head ;  "  like  the  bed  of  flowers  we  saw  this 
aorning,  it  is  only  the  sunshine,  and  the  shadows  of 
he  leaves." 

Florette  made  no  reply :  her  heart  was  full  of 
trange  emotion,  for  she  knew  that  she  had  slept  upon 
\  bed  of  flowers,  and  been  lulled  to  rest  in  the  arms 
>f  the  Lily  Fairy. 


There  were   tears  in  the  eyes  of  some   of  the 
roung  listeners,  as  Aunt  Elsie  laid  down  the  manu- 
script, and  little  Lily,  throwing  herself  on  May's  lap, 
fobbed  outright. 
U 


122  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear  child?"  asked  May, 
kindly. 

"  I  don't  know  indeed,"  sobbed  Lily,  smiling 
through  her  tears,  "but  it  seems  as  if  you  were 
Florette ;  and  then  the  frozen  robin,  and  the  lily, 
and  poor  lost  Eddie,  and  my  own  self  seem  to  be  all 
confused  together,  and  I  must  cry,  dear  May,  because 
you  are  so  good  and  Eddie  is  found  again !" 

Another  shower  of  tears  followed  this  incoherent 
speech ;  but  Aunt  Elsie,  who  understood  the  feeling 
that  was  struggling  for  expression  in  the  child's  heart, 
tenderly  lifted  Lily  on  her  lap,  and  resting  her  head 
upon  her  bosom,  said  softly  : 

"  And  now  will  you  be  my  little  Lily  Fairy,  and 
tell  me  what  made  the  silver  beam  and  the  lilies 
follow  Florette  ?." 

"  Because  she  was  gentle  and  good,  and  not  one 
bit  selfish,"  replied  the  child. 

"  And  the  silver  beam  is  the  light  that  kind  words 
and  actions  always  shed  around,"  added  Clara. 

"  The  crown  of  lilies  is  the  glory  of  pure  an<$ 
gentle  thoughts,"  remarked  Grace,  thoughtfully.  "Is 
it  not  so,  Aunt  Elsie  V 

Aunt  Elsie  bowed  assent,  but  ere  she  could  speak 
little  Frank  Field  was  bending  over  his  sister,  and 
kissing  her  fondly,  said  : 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  123 

"  And  this  is  ray  safeguard  from  all  selfishness, 
-my  sib   •  "beam — my  Lily  Fairy  !" 


The  window  was  left  open  on  the  following  morn- 
og,  but  the  robin  showed  no  desire  to  depart  until 
he  sun  shone  out  at  noon  ;  he  then  flew  off,  but 
owards  night  returned,  and  perched  as  before,  on 
he  old  bookcase.  During  all  the  winter  he  was  an 
ccasional  visitor,  and  in  stormy  weather,  a  constant 
;uest;  but  when  spring  returned,  with  buds  and 
•lossoms,  robin  sang  a  sweet  farewell,  and  flew  away 
o  join  his  mate. 


124  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  I  say,  Frank,  where  did  you  put  my  ball  ?  you  had 
it  last,"  cried  Willie  G-raham,  in  an  impatient  tone, 
as  he  burst  into  the  room. 

Frank  looked  pleasantly  up  from  the  map  he  was 
drawing,  and  replied : 

"  I  put  it  in  your  box,  Willie,  that  stands  in  the 
corner  of  the  play-room.  I  told  you  I  would  put  it 
back,  you  know,  and  so  I  did." 

"  But  you  didn't,  though,"  answered  Willie,  with 
a  flushed  face,  "  for  I  have  tossed  every  thing  out  of 
the  box,  and  there  is  no  ball  there." 

"Perhaps,  then,  it  has  rolled  away.  I  will  go 
and  look  for  it,"  said  Frank,  gently,  and  rising  from 
his  seat  he  left  the  room  to  hunt  up  the  missing  ball. 

Willie  threw  himself  on  a  chair  in  a  pet ;  he  was 
evidently  in  a  very  ill-humor  with  Frank,  and  mut- 
tered something  about  wasting  all  the  afternoon  just 
for  other  people's  carelessness. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  125 

Nobody  spoke  to  him,  and  Aunt  Elsie  looked  very 
jrave,  when  the  door  opened  and  Frank  appeared. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  find  the  ball,  Willie," 
said  he  ;  "  I  have  searched  every  where.  One  of  the 
Doys  must  have  taken  it  out,  for  I  am  very  sure  I 
mt  it  safely  away.  Wait  a  moment,  and  I  will  run 
>ut  and  ask  them." 

"  You  need  not  trouble  yourself,"  cried  the  other, 
mrriedly  rising  with  an  angry  face.  "I  know  no 
>ne  has  taken  it,  because  I  am  sure  you  never  put  it 
i)ack.  I  warrant  it  is  buried  up  in  the  snow  where 
70u  left  it.  It  serves  me  just  right  for  lending  a 
)all  to  such  a  stupid  bookworm,  and  the  next  time 
rou  want  to  borrow  one,  Master  Frank,  please  to  ask 
iomebody  else." 

So  saying,  Willie  banged  the  door  very  uncere- 
noniously  after  him  and  went  to  join  the  boys,  who 
vere  playing  ball  out  upon  the  grounds. 

Frank  returned  to  his  seat  with  a  troubled  face, 
tnd  sat  thoughtfully  looking  in  the  fire. 

"  Willie  is  in  quite  a  rage,"  said  Lucy  Parker, 
vith  a  smile. 

"  He  is  a  very  cross,  naughty  boy,  to  speak  so  to 
ny  own  Franky,  who  never  loses  any  thing,"  added 
ittle  Lily,  kissing  her  brother's  cheek. 

"When  did  you  have  the  ball,  Frank?"  asked 
iunt  Elsie. 

11* 


126  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES, 

"  I  had  it  yesterday  morning,"  he  replied,  re- 
pressing the  tears  that  rose  to  his  eyes,  at  the  thought 
of  Willie's  rude  speech  ;  "  and  I  am  certain  that  I 
returned  it,  because  I  remember  that  the  box  of  nine- 
pins was  upset,  and  I  arranged  it  at  the  same  time." 

"  And  I  saw  the  ball  lying  on  the  box  late  last 
night,  when  I  went  to  put  away  our  tea  set,"  added 
Jessie  Lester. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Willie  entered. 
He  looked  very  serious,  and  going  up  to  Frank  held 
out  his  hand,  saying  : 

"  I  spoke  very  unkindly  to  you,  Franky,  and  have 
come  back  to  ask  your  forgiveness.  I  am  very,  very 
sorry  that  I  called  you  a  stupid  bookworm,  and  said 
you  didn't  return  the  ball,  for  I  know  you  always  tell 
the  truth.  If  it  is  lost  I  am  sure  it  is  not  your  fault, 
and  you  are  welcome  to  any  thing  I  have.  Will  you 
forgive  me,  Frank  ?" 

Frank  grasped  the  proffered  hand  of  his  play- 
mate, and  with  a  glad,  bright  smile,  assured  him  of 
his  entire  forgiveness,  and  besought  him  to  say  no 
more  about  it.  Meanwhile  the  other  boys  came  in 
from  their  play,  and  after  the  warming  of  feet  and 
hands  was  pretty  well  over,  and  the  talking  and  buzz 
had  subsided,  Aunt  Elsie  spoke : 

"  Has  any  one  seen  Willie's  ball?"  she  asked.  "It 
seems  that  it  cannot  be  found." 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


127 


"  Why,  yes,"  cried  George,  "  here  it  is ;"  and  he 
Dulled  the  ball  from  his  pocket,  as  he  spoke.  "  Don't 
you  remember,  Willie,  that  I  asked  you  to  lend  it  to 
oie  early  this  morning  1" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Willie,  coloring.  "  I  remem- 
ber very  well  now.  I  was  scarcely  awake  at  the  time, 
and  must  have  fallen  asleep  afterwards,  and  so  forgot 
all  about  it.  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  having  accused 
any  one  of  losing  it.     I  am  very  sorry,  Frank." 

Frank  put  up  his  finger.  Aunt  Elsie  deemed  it 
best  to  take  no  farther  notice  of  the  affair,  as  Willie 
had  acknowledged  his  fault,  and  the  tea  bell  ringing 
just  then,  the  hungry  group  were  soon  doing  ample 
justice  to  the  good  things  spread  before  them. 

After  tea  little  Lily  sat  thoughtfully  before  the 
fire,  at  Aunt  Elsie's  side,  while  Norah  Graham  leaned 
upon  the  old  lady's  knee. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Lily,  "what  the 
good  spirit  was,  that  made  Willie  apologize  to  Franky 
for  his  cross  words." 

"It  was  his  generous  heart,"   replied  Norah,  a 

little  proudly. 

"More   likely,  shame,"    said   Lucy  Parker,  who 

now  joined  the  group. 

"  Or  a  voice  like  that  of  the  Shadowless,"  added 
Grace. 


128 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


"Pray,  Aunt  Elsie,  what  was  it?"  asked  Lily, 
looking  up  appealingly. 

The  old  lady  smiled,  but  made  no  answer.  She 
rose  from  her  seat,  and  opening  her  portfolio,  looked 
over  her  papers,  and  selecting  a  few,  seated  herself  at 
the  table,  saying : 

"  And  now  I  will  read  you  a  story."      ' 

The  elder  children  looked  surprised  and  pleased 
at  this  rather  abrupt  announcement;  and  Norah 
whispered  to  Lily : 

"Now  we  shall  find  out  what  prompted  Willie  to 
acknowledge  his  fault " 

Lily  nodded,  and  both  seating  themselves  on  low 
stools  at  Aunt  Elsie's  side,  listened  with  eager  inter- 
est to  the  story  of 


%  Wnhxkl  afafcjr. 

"  This  is  my  birth-day,"  cried  little  Artolphe,  joy- 
ously, as  he  entered  his  father's  study—"  this  is  my 
birth-day,  dear  father,  and  I  am  so  very  anxious  to  see 
the  beautiful  present  that  you  promised  me  when  I  at- 
tained my  tenth  year." 

The  father  looked  up  from  his  book,  very  plea- 
santly, and  drawing  his  little  boy  towards  him,  spoke 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  129 

fectionate  and  playful  words  about  the  mature  age 
>  which  his  son  had  arrived,  and  kissed  his  brow 
:mdly. 

Then  he  arose,  and  opening  a  private  drawer  of 
is  writing  desk,  took  thence  a  small  red  morocco 
ise,  which  he  gave  to  the  expectant  boy. 

Artolphe  eagerly  opened  the  clasps,  and  cried  out 
ith  delight,  on  beholding  a  small  and  exquisitely 
ade  watch  suspended  to  a  slender  gold  chain. 

After  the  little  boy  had  sufficiently  admired  his 
3W  possession,  his  father  called  him  to  his  side,  and 
.king  the  watch  in  his  hand,  said : 

"  This  watch,  my  dear  Artolphe,  was  given  to  you 
hen  you  were  born  ;  but  as  it  is  far  too  valuable  for 
1  infant's  toy,  I  have  kept  it  carefully  until  I  con- 
dered  that  you  were  old  enough  to  take  proper  care 
?it  yourself:  I  have  always  endeavored  to  regulate 
so  as  to  keep  true  time  ;  and  now,  before  resigning 
into  your  charge,  I  must  tell  you  some  of  its  pecu- 
ar  virtues." 

Artolphe  looked  earnest  and  attentive,  and  his 
,ther  continued  : 

"  This  watch  not  only  tells  you  the  time,  but  teaches 
ou  how  to  spend  it  profitably,  besides  being  a  faithful 
lonitor,  and  warning  you  very  plainly  when  you  do 
rong.  You  observe  how  silently  the  hands  move 
pon  the  dial ;  it  makes  no  ticking,  like  an  ordinary 


130  FIE.ESIDE      FAIRIES. 

time-piece,  but  whenever  you  hear  its  '  tick-tick,'  how 
ever  softly,  pause  in  what  you  are  doing  or  think 
ing,  for  you  may  be  sure  it  is  something  wrong." 

Artolphe  was  very  much  surprised  at  hearing 
these  wonderful  qualities  of  his  new  watch,  and  asked 
his  father  who  made  it,  and  who  it  was  that  gave  it 
to  him. 

"  It  was  made  and  given  you  by  your  best  friend,' 
replied  his  father,  "  and  you  can  show  your  gratitud* 
for  the  gift  by  carefully  attending  to  its  admonitions 
and  above  all  by  regulating  the  watch  itself.  If  yoi' 
disregard  its  gentle  ticking,  the  sound  will  become 
louder  and  louder ;  but  you  must  take  care  lest,  hear 
ing  it  so  constantly,  you  become  insensible  to  its  voice 
as  by  continual  ticking  the  main-spring  will  break 
and  then  it  is  ruined  for  ever,  unless  the  same  kinc 
friend  who  made  it  should  graciously  please  to  repah 
it  for  you.  But  by  wilful  neglect  of  his  gift  you  wil 
forfeit  his  friendship  and  favor.  The  oftener  it  ticks 
to  remind  you  of  your  faults,  the  more  disordered  M 
becomes,  and  you  must  never  neglect  to  regulate  il 
every  night  and  morning.  In  this  book  you  will  find 
the  proper  directions  for  its  use,  together  with  the 
promise  of  future  benefits  from  the  friend  who  gave  M 
to  you :  and  now,  my  dear  son,  I  give  this  invaluable 
gift  into  your  possession,  and  hope  you  will  deserve  its 
benefits  by  attending  to  its  teachings." 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  131 

He  then  clasped  the  chain  that  held  the  watch 
wound  the  little  boy's  neck,  and  gave  him  the  book 
3ontaining  the  rules  for  its  proper  management.  Ar- 
fcolphe  thanked  his  father  a  thousand  times,  and  pro- 
mising to  regulate  it  carefully,  hastened  away  to  ex- 
amine at  leisure  the  beautiful  and  wonderful  watch. 
All  that  day  and  the  next,  Artolphe  could  think  of 
nothing  but  his  new  possession,  and  was  very  careful 
to  regulate  it  by  the  rules  he  found  in  the  book. 
During  all  this  time  it  had  not  ticked  once  ;  but  the 
following  day  had  been  set  apart  for  an  excursion,  and 
Artolphe  expected  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  When 
be  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  rain  was  pouring  down 
in  torrents,  and  the  thick  clouds  gave  sure  evidence 
of  a  stormy  day. 

The  little  boy  was  terribly  disappointed,  and  con- 
sequently ill-natured  ;  he  became  cross  and  impatient, 
and  talked  very  foolishly  about  its  raining  on  purpose 
to  torment  him.  When  his  father  told  him  to  go  to 
his  lessons,  as  the  excursion  must  be  postponed,  he 
went  with  a  very  ill  grace,  and  taking  his  book,  dashed 
it  on  the  floor  with  vexation. 

Just  then  he  heard  a  "  tick-tick"  very  distinctly ; 
he  was  startled,  and  listened  thoughtfully. 

"  Tick-tick,"  spoke  the  voice  of  his  monitor. 

A  blush  of  shame  crimsoned  the  brow  of  the  now 
repentant  boy,  as  he  lifted  his  book  and  earnestly  be- 


132  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

gan  his  task.  The  wonderful  watch  had  not  warned 
him  in  vain,  and  his  ill-humor  disappeared. 

The  next  day  was  clear  and  bright,  and  the  pro 
mised  excursion  was  taken.  When  Artolphe  saw 
how  refreshed  and  beautiful  every  thing  looked  after 
the  rain,  and  that  there  was  no  dust  to  annoy  them, 
he  felt  doubly  the  folly  of  his  disappointed  impatience, 
and  could  not  refrain  from  telling  his  father  all  about 
his  vexation  and  the  ticking  of  the  wonderful  watch. 

His  father  then  told  him  that  the  friend  who  made 
him  that  present,  was  his  own  best  and  truest  friend 
also,  and  that  if  Artolphe  properly  valued  his  gift,  he 
would  be  a  benefactor  during  all  his  life.  He  said 
that  he  himself  always  applied  to  this  friend  for  ad- 
vice and  assistance,  and  received  all  benefits  from  his 
hand.  When  Artolphe  heard  this,  he  determined  to 
be  more  careful  than  ever  of  his  precious  gift. 

Time  wore  away,  and  the  possession  of  the  won- 
derful watch  had  ceased  to  be  a  novelty.  It  frequently 
ticked  when  Artolphe  thought  he  did  not  deserve 
reproof;  but  it  had  already  prevented  him  from  doing 
many  improper  things,  and  broken  up  several  bad 
habits  by  its  gentle  and  timely  voice. 

Artolphe  kept  it  in  pretty  good  order ;  but  some- 
times, when  he  went  to  bed  very  tired,  or  rose  rather 
late,  he  neglected  to  regulate  his  watch,  and  then 
what  a  ticking  it  kept  up  during  the  day  !     Artolphe 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  133 

was  sometimes  tempted  to  give  it  up  altogether,  but 
ipon  reflection  always  found  that  the  watch  was  right, 
md  so  repented  of  his  neglect  and  inattention. 

Some  time  after  this,  Artolphe  was  sent  away  to 
chool,  and  here  his  watch  proved  his  faithful  and  un- 
wearied monitor.  He  had  never  been  thrown  much 
n  the  society  of  boys,  and  at  the  school  there  were 
nany  who  not  only  appeared  to  possess  no  watch  to 
yarn  them,  but  who  seemed  to  delight  in  doing  mis- 
bief,  or  what  they  knew  to  be  wrong. 

When  they  discovered  the  mystery  of  Artolphe's 
vatch,  they  teased  him  incessantly  about  it,  and 
aughed  at  him  for  being  so  foolish  as  to  regard  its 
roice.  But  the  impressions  he  had  brought  from  his 
iwn  happy  home,  were  yet  fresh  in  his  mind  ;  and 
>eing  fortunately  upheld  in  his  good  resolutions  by 
me  or  two  older  companions,  Artolphe  became  more 
watchful  over  himself  and  more  attentive  to  his  faith- 
ul  monitor's  voice,  until  he  obtained  the  sobriquet 
I  the  "  Watchman." 

For  a  long  while  all  things  went  on  well,  until, 
mfortunately  for  Artolphe,  his  two  friends  were  call- 
id  away  from  school,  and  the  little  boy  was  left  to 
iombat  the  taunts  and  sneers  of  his  companions  quite 
done. 

Artolphe  persisted  in  his  course  for  a  time,  but 
Deing  very  affectionate,  he  could  not  bear  to  find  him- 
12 


134»  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

self  shunned  by  all  his  associates  for  what  they  called 
his  foolish  pride  of  morality,  and  so  little  by  little  he 
yielded  to  their  influence.  Often  when  warned  bj 
the  ticking  of  his  watch,  not  to  join  in  some  forbiddec 
pleasure,  the  sneering  laugh,  or  apparently  affectionate 
pleading  of  his  companions,  prevailed,  and  he  endea- 
vored to  silence  the  voice  of  his  monitor  in  boisterous 
mirth.  It  is  just  to  some  of  the  boys  who  enticed 
him,  that  it  should  be  told,  they  did  not  see  the  harm 
of  what  they  did,  so  plainly  as  Artolphe,  because  they 
had  not  been  taught ;  and  of  course  the  blame  of  Ar- 
tolphe was  threefold. 

As  the  boy  became  accustomed  to  the  now  almost 
constant  ticking  of  his  watch,  its  voice  was  disregard- 
ed, and  he  scarcely  ever  thought  of  looking  in  his 
book,  or  endeavoring  to  regulate  it.  When  he  did 
make  the  attempt,  he  found  his  watch  so  much  disor- 
dered by  long  neglect,  that  it  would  be  a  great  labor 
to  put  it  in  order  again,  and  so  he  became  indifferent 
and  left  the  task  undone. 

Winter  came  with  its  usual  enjoyments,  and  the 
boys  were  anticipating  with  delight  the  merry  Christ- 
mas vacation,  but  in  the  mean  time  were  busy  devis- 
ing schemes  of  pleasure.  Some  of  them  proposed  a 
skating  frolic,  on  a  very  large  and  deep  pond,  a  lit- 
tle distance  from  the  house.  This,  the  teacher  posi- 
tively forbade,  as  the  season   had   been   unusually 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  135 

mild,  and  the  ice  was  not  sufficiently  solid  to  insure 
safety. 

Most  of  the  pupils  submitted  to  his  authority,  but 
a  few  of  the  most  daring  rebelled,  and  determined  to 
enjoy  the  forbidden  pleasure.  The  nights  were  moon- 
light, and  they  resolved  to  steal  out  softly  after  all 
had  retired,  "  to  have  a  good  skate."  Artolphe  was 
persuaded  to  join  this  reckless  party,  who  declared 
their  willingness  to  undergo  punishment  in  the  event 
of  a  discovery,  rather  than  forego  their  favorite 
amusement. 

The  appointed  night  came,  and  Artolphe  sat  upon 
the  side  of  his  cot,  ready  dressed,  and  awaiting  the 
preconcerted  signal.  His  lamp  had  been  extinguish- 
ed, and  there  was  no  light  except  the  bright,  pure 
moonshine,  that  poured  its  full  beams  upon  him.  As 
the  boy  listened  anxiously  for  the  given  signal,  the 
loud  "  tick-tick"  of  his  watch,  smote  upon  his  ear. 

"  Tick,  tick,  tick,"  how  fearfully  loud  and  distinct 
it  was  !  It  seemed  like  the  heavy  stroke  of  a  ham- 
mer on  the  boy's  heart. 

He  could  not  silence  it  then  by  boisterous  gayety ; 
Vut  there,  in  the  solemn  hush  of  the  night,  in  the 
pure  rays  of  the  moon,  he  sat  and  listened  to  the 
warning  note. 

"  Tick,  tick,  tick." 

Artolphe  leaned  down  his  head  and  thought. 


136  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

He  remembered  his  father's  words,  his  own  broken 
promises,  and  his  teacher's  commands.  He  thought 
of  his  present  disobedience,  and  shuddered.  He  was 
about  to  steal  out,  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  to  par- 
take a  dangerous  pleasure,  at  the  expense  of  duty, 
truth,  and  every  principle  of  right.  As  he  reflected 
on  his  present  conduct,  the  memory  of  past  trans- 
gressions rose  vividly  before  him,  and  the  tears 
coursed  down  his  cheeks. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  he  said  resolutely.  And  then  the 
watch  was  stilled. 

Just  then  he  heard  the  given  signal,  and  crept 
softly  to  the  window ;  his  companions  stood  beneath 
with  their  skates  in  hand.  He  shook  his  head,  as 
token  of  dissent  to  their  invitation,  and  they  pointed 
their  fingers  scornfully  at  him,  and  went  away,  some 
beckoning  him  to  follow. 

Artolphe  turned  from  the  window,  and  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  skates.  It  was  a  moment  of  tempta- 
tion. He  imagined  the  jeers  of  his  companions,  and 
turning  again  towards  the  window,  watched  their  re- 
ceding forms  as  they  stepped  rapidly  over  the  frozen 
ground.  He  could  see  the  clear  ice-floored  pond, 
gleaming  in  the  moonlight  like  burnished  silver,  and 
he  hesitated. 

"  Tick,  tick,  tick,"  came  the  warning  note ;  and 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  137 

now  it  seemed  to  fill  the  room  with  its  earnest  solemn 
sound. 

Artolphe  yielded  to  impatience. 

He  drew  the  watch  from  his  bosom,  and  would 
have  cast  it  aside  in  anger,  but  the  chain  held  it 
firmly ;  and  now  it  seemed  to  thrill  beneath  his 
touch,  in  the  earnestness  of  its  expostulation. 

He  paused — his  gaze  rested  unconsciously  upon 
the  neglected  book  of  rules  for  the  regulation  of  his 
inestimable  watch.  It  was  covered  thick  with  dust, 
for  it  had  not  been  opened  in  very  many  weeks. 

He  took  down  the  neglected  volume,  and  opened 
it  there  in  the  bright  moonlight,  and  his  glance  fell 
on  some  of  the  glorious  promises  for  the  future,  pro- 
vided he  fulfilled  his  duty  and  was  careful  of  his  gift. 

Artolphe  was  startled.  "  Shall  I  resign  all  this 
good  for  an  hour  of  stolen  pastime  ?"  said  he  to  him- 
self.    "  No,  1  will  not  go." 

He  put  the  watch  back  in  his  bosom,  and  seating 
himself  by  the  window,  read  from  the  long  neglected 
book  in  the  clear  moonlight. 

Suddenly  a  sharp,  terrible  cry  broke  the  stillness. 
Artolphe  looked  out,  and  there  in  the  distance  he 
could  see  the  forms  of  two  boys,  wildly  tossing  their 
arms  as  they  struggled  amid  the  ice,  on  the  now 
broken  surface  of  the  pond — the  rest  had  disap- 
peared. 


138  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

Again  and  again,  in  quick  succession,  arose  the 
screams  of  fear  and  agony. 

Quick  as  thought,  Artolphe  sprang  to  the  great 
bell  that  was  rung  to  awaken  the  household  at  morn- 
ing. With  all  his  strength,  he  pulled  the  rope,  and 
the  loud  clang  that  startled  the  silent  echoes,  was  in- 
stantly answered  by  the  teacher  himself,  who  opened 
his  door  in  alarm. 

"  Oh,  come,  do  come,  they  will  all  be  drowned !" 
cried  the  agitated  boy,  still  pulling  at  the  rope. 

Several  members  of  the  family  now  appeared. 

"  Where  are  they  1 — what  is  it  ? — what  can  be  the 
matter  ?"  cried  different  voices,  as  they  now  distin- 
guished the  cries. 

"  The  pond  !  the  pond  !  they  will  sink  and  die  !" 
repeated  Artolphe,  rushing  to  the  door. 

The  teacher  and  ushers,  having  hastily  thrown  on 
their  clothes,  followed  hurriedly ;  they  began  to  un- 
derstand it  now. 

Artolphe  flew  before  them  like  the  wind. 

"  Keep  up  !"  he  shouted,  "  help  is  coming  !" 

They  reached  the  pond,  and  two  boys  were  ex- 
tricated just  as  they  were  sinking.  A  third  was 
dragged  out  lifeless  from  beneath  the  ice.  They 
could  find  no  more. 

But  Artolphe  knew  that  there  were  five  in  all. 


FIRESIDE     FAIK.IES.  139 

sle  told  the  people  who  had  now  gathered,  and  they 
earched  for  them  in  vain. 

I  They  bore  the  senseless  hoys  to  the  house,  and 
iried  every  means  to  restore  them  to  animation. 
?wo  recovered  consciousness,  hut  the  third  never 
!woke  again. 

The  bodies  of  the  other  two  were  recovered  on 
he  following  morning,  and  Artolphe  told  the  teacher 
he  history  of  the  past  night's  scheme. 

As  Artolphe  stood  beside  the  cold  and  lifeless 
forms  of  the  three  drowned  truants,  and  remembered 
low  he  had  seen  them  last,  pointing  jeeringly  at  him, 
i  feeling  of  trembling  awe  crept  over  him. 

Might  he  not  have  been  one  of  them1?  This 
nought  sent  the  blood  back  to  his  heart ;  he  shud- 
dered, and  remembered  with  a  prayer  of  thankfulness 
i.he  warning  voice  of  his  faithful  monitor. 
i  When  Artolphe  returned  home  at  Christmas,  he 
nade  a  full  confession  to  his  father  of  all  his  evil 
leeds,  and  as  he  dwelt  with  horror  upon  the  tempta- 
ion  and  terrible  scenes  of  that  fearful  night,  he  pro- 
mised, with  many  tears,  never  again  to  neglect  the 
nvaluable  treasure  he  possessed,  but  to  heed  faith- 
fully its  warning  admonitions,  and  its  slightest  note. 

And  Artolphe  kept  his  word. 


140  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

The  story  was  finished,  and  Aunt  Elsie,  turning 
•  to  Lily,  asked  : 

"  And  now  Lily,  what  prompted  "Willie  to  acknow- 
ledge his  fault  ?" 

"  I  think,"  answered  the  little  girl,  with  a  bright 
smile,  "  that  Willie  must  wear  a  wonderful  watch,  to 
tell  him  when  he  does  right  or  wrong." 

"  To  he  sure  he  does,  and  so  do  you,"  remarked 
Clara. 

"  And  so  do  we  all,"  cried  Bertha. 

"What  can  it  be,"  asked  Norah,  thoughtfully. 
"Oh,  I  have  it  now:  the  wonderful  watch  was  Con- 
science, and  the  chain  that  would  not  break,  was 
good  habits." 

Aunt  Elsie  smiled  approvingly. 

"Willie  was  a  good  boy  to  obey  it,"  whispered 
Lily  to  Norah,  "  and  I  love  him  befter  than  ever." 

"  Aunt  Elsie  read  that  story  for  my  especial  ben- 
efit," said  Willie,  cheerfully,  "and  my  conscience 
applies  it.  I  only  hope  I  shall  always  keep  my 
wonderful  watch  in  such  good  order  that  its  slightest 
ticking  will  alarm  me." 

"  You  must  give  good  heed  to  the  book  of  laws, 
then,  Willie,"  remarked  Grace. 

"  Which  is  the  Bible,"  added  May,  "  and  prayer 
is  the  key  to  regulate  our  conscience  with ;  is  it  not 
so,  Aunt  Elsie  ?" 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  141 

w 

"  Yes,  my  children,"  answered  the  dear  Aunt 
Slsie,  "  and  happy  would  it  be  for  all  of  us,  if  our 
onsciences  were  ever  kept  regulated  by  that  pre- 
ious  book,  so  that  its  still,  small  voice  might  check 
ls  with  its  warning  note.  Remember  that  each  of 
rou  wear  a  wonderful  watch,  presented  by  the  Great 
river  of  all  good,  and  to  Him  you  are  accountable  for 
ts  safety.  Be  careful,  therefore,  that  ye  despise  not 
ds  friendship,  but  profiting  by  the  fearful  warning  of 
\.rtolphe,  resolve  to  follow  his  after  example  of  good 
onduct,  and  go  and  do  likewise." 


142  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  little  party  were  all  invited  to  a  juvenile  festival 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  very  pretty  they  looked 
when  assembled  in  the  dear  old  parlor  to  get  tho- 
roughly warmed  before  starting. 

Such  a  hum  of  merry  voices  arose  from  this  little 
social  swarm  as  made  the  room  buzz  again  with  the 
cheerful  sound.  And  the  display  of  rosy  cheeks  and 
sparkling  eyes,  white  collars,  and  smoothly-braided 
hair,  was  suggestive  of  all  the  pleasant  associations  of 
joyous  childhood  and  innocent  mirth. 

The  girls  were  neatly  attired  in  high  merino 
dresses,  finished  at  the  throat  with  narrow  rich  lace. 
They  wore  no  ornaments,  for  they  needed  none,  save 
their  own  unshadowed  sunny  heauty.  With  an  affec- 
tionate and  graceful  feeling  they  had  endeavored  to 
dress  as  nearly  alike  as  possible,  and  they  chose  their 
"  uniform,"  as  they  called  it,  to  be  a  plain  one,  because 
they  went  to  enjoy  as  children,  and  not  to  be  admired 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  143 

3  belles.  Dear  good  Aunt  Elsie  went  busily  amidst 
le  little  group,  smoothing  the  braided  hair  of  one, 
^ranging  the  folds  of  another's  dress,  tying  mufflers, 
arming  mittens,  and  seeing  that  the  little  feet  were 
ell  protected  from  the  cold. 

Old  Dinah,  too,  was  there,  her  arms  piled  to  her 
lin  with  cloaks  and  tippets,  waiting  the  calls  of  their 
jspective  owners.  Her  shining  face  expanded  with 
fmpathetic  pleasure,  and  peering  out  from  behind 
er  screen  of  clothing,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  "little 
iries,"  as  she  always  called  them,  "  specially  Miss 

■jr." 

And  now  all  were  in  readiness.  The  large  sleigh 
as  at  the  door,  and  the  merry  group  in  the  hall,  when 
.unt  Elsie,  who  stood  at  the  parlor  door,  waiting  the 
)11  of  a  kiss  from  every  smiling  passer-by,  exclaimed, 

"  But  where  is  Bertha  ?    I  have  not  seen  her  yet." 

And  then  it  was  remembered  that  Bertha  had  not 
et  come  down,  and  Norah  Graham  was  running  up 
;airs  to  find  what  delayed  her,  when  Bertha  herself 
ppeared,  bonneted  and  cloaked  for  her  journey. 

"  I  am  quite  ready,"  she  cried,  running  hastily  up 
)  kiss  Aunt  Elsie,  "  and  not  at  all  cold ;  come,  let  us 
e  off;  don't  say  I  kept  you  waiting." 

"  Whew !  Bertha  means  to  be  queen  to-night," 
ried  Ernest,  as  his  sister's  cloak  flew  open,  "  see  what 


144 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES, 


a  fine  dress  she  has  on :  girls,  hide  your  diminish 
heads." 

"  Nonsense,  Ernest,  how  you  talk,"  answered  Be 
tha,  blushing  confusedly;  then  hastily  folding  h 
mantle  about  her,  she  followed  her  companions,  son 
of  whom  were  already  seated  in  the  sleigh ;  not,  ho^ 
ever,  before  the  quick  eye  of  Aunt  Elsie  had  note 
that  she  wore  a  dress  of  rich  and  costly  silk,  which  si 
had  brought  only  to  be  worn,  as  her  mother  desirei 
on  very  particular  occasions. 

Breakfast  was  later  than  usual  on  the  followin 
morning,  for  the  children  were  unused  to  dissipatioi 
and  sleep  hung  heavy  on  their  eyelids.  But  when  e 
last  the  morning  meal  had  been  discussed,  and  thei 
spirits  resumed  their  usual  tone,  the  remembrance  c 
the  previous  evening's  enjoyments  came  fresh  upo 
them,  and  every  tongue  assured  Aunt  Elsie  that  th 
party  had  been  a  delightful  one. 

Bertha  said  less  than  any  of  her  companions,  an 
Aunt  Elsie  knew,  by  her  unwonted  silence,  that  some 
thing  had  gone  wrong  with  her  at  least. 

When  the  group  had  dispersed  to  their  several  em 
ployments,  little  Lily  remained  with  Aunt  Elsie,  an< 
when  the  old  lady  had  seated  herself  in  her  accustome( 
chair,  the  child  laid  her  bright  face  on  her  kind  friend'; 
lap,  and  said,  with  a  little  sigh  : 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  145 

"Do  you  know,  Aunt  Elsie,  I  am  afraid  Bertha 
lidn't  enjoy  herself  at  all  last  night." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  !  why  not  ?"  asked  her  listener. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  why,  but  I  know  what  I  think," 
nswered  the  little  girl  thoughtfully.  "  And  so,  Aunt 
Slsie,  I  will  just  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  see,  Ber- 
ha  didn't  dress  like  the  rest,  although^  they  expected 
ler  to.  She  wore  her  figured  garnet  silk  with  short 
ileeves,  and  deep  lace  round  the  neck ;  then  she  had 
i  necklace  and  brooch,  and  her  hair  all  curled.  I 
ponder  she  did  not  let  you  see  her,  Aunt  Elsie,  for 
he  did  look  so  beautiful.  I  think  she  wanted  to 
urprise  us.  I  thought  every  one  would  admire  her, 
>ut  some  way  they  did  not  seem  to  notice  her  much, 
,nd  I  thought  she  looked  disappointed  and  unhappy. 
)ne  lady,  who  sat  next  me.  asked  if  Bertha  belonged 
.0  our  party ;  and  when  I  said,  yes  ma'am,  she  re- 
narked  that  it  was  a  wonder  she  did  not  dress  like 
he  rest,  and  added,  '  She  must  be  very  proud.'  Ano- 
her  lady  said,  '  Who  is  that  vain  girl  in  the  corner, 
vho  evidently  thinks  herself  a  young  lady  %  It  is  a 
)ity  she  is  overdressed,  for  she  is  really  quite  hand- 
;ome.'  I  longed  to  tell  the  ladies  that  Bertha  was 
leither  vain  nor  proud,  but  they  didn't  seem  to  notice 
ne  because  I  was  so  little,  and  I  did  not  like  to  speak. 
\.nd  then,  what  was  worse  than  all,  an  ugly  ill-man- 
aered  boy  was  offended  because  Bertha  refused  to 
13 


146  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


dance  with  him,  and  he  nicknamed  her  the  '  empress,' 
%and  pretended  to  wait  upon  her  all  the  time,  just  to 
tease  her,  you  know.  And  when  he  handed  her  some 
lemonade,  he  awkwardly  spilt  it  on  her  dress,  spoiling 
it  entirely.  Instead  of  being  sorry,  he  only  laughed. 
Was  not  that  outrageous  conduct  ?  Another  accident 
happened  beside ;  the  rich  lace  on  her  sleeve  caught 
in  a  pin  during  one  of  the  games,  and  tore  a  great 
piece  off.  Bertha  looked  so  very  unhappy  after  this, 
and  went  into  a  corner  all  alone :  she  would  not  join 
in  any  plays  afterwards." 

"  And  did  none  of  her  companions  make  any  re- 
marks about  her  dress  to  Bertha  ?"  asked  Aunt  Elsie, 
when  Lily  paused,  fairly  out  of  breath. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  child,  "  Lucy  Parker  asked 
her  why  she  didn't  wear  her  merino  dress,  and  she 
said  [  because  it  was  too  short ;'  and  you  know,  Aunt 
Elsie,  Bertha  would  never  tell  a  story." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  would,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
old  lady  dryly,  «  but  the  dress  might  have  been  length- 
ened in  time." 

Little  Lily  was  commencing  a  warm  defence  of 
hei  friend,  when  several  of  the  little  folks  entered  and 
interrupted  the  conversation.  Nothing  more  was  said 
upon  the  subject;  but  Aunt  Elsie  thought  the  short 
frock  was  not  the  only  reason  of  Bertha's  gay  dress, 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  147 

for  she  had  observed  pride  to  be  the  young  girl's  great- 
est fault. 

After  dinner  the  young  people  plead  hard  for  a 
story,  as  they  felt  no  zest  for  their  usual  pastimes,  and 
expected  to  retire  early.  Aunt  Elsie  had  an  object 
in  view,  and  did  not  refuse  their  request ;  but,  pro- 
mising them  a  good  long  story,  selected  and  read  the 
following,  called 


Fairest  of  all  the  village  maidens  was  the  young 
Yiola.  Her  step  was  lighter  than  that  of  the  startled 
fawn ;  her  voice  sweeter  than  the  nightingale.-  The 
melting  eyes  of  the  far-famed  gazelle  were  dim  com- 
pared with  hers  ;  and  her  form  was  like  the  graceful 
willow  swayed  by  the  gentle  breeze.  She  was  indeed 
the  queen-rose  in  the  garden  of  loveliness;  but  as 
every  rose  must  have  a  thorn,  so  Yiola,  being  con- 
scious of  her  beauty,  marred  its  perfection  ;  and  they 
who  admired  this  human  flower,  were  nevertheless 
pierced  and  wounded  by  the  hateful  thorns  of  va- 
nity and  pride  that  clustered  thickly  around  it. 

Proud  as  she  was,  Viola  had  nought  but  her  beau- 
ty to  boast.     Her  family  were  very  poor,  and  at  the 


148  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

summer  f&tes  she  was  distinguished  as  much  by  her 
exceeding  homeliness  of  dress,  as  by  her  surpassing 
loveliness.  Though  she  needed  no  other  adornment 
than  her  own  charms,  she  was  very  fond  of  finery, 
and  thought  herself  wonderfully  improved  by  some 
tawdry  ribbons,  or  gilded  trinkets  fantastically  dis- 
played upon  her  person. 

Despite  her  faults,  Viola  had  some  fine  qualities, 
but  her  intolerable  pride  and  vanity,  like  a  black 
cloud,  veiled  the  sun  of  her  goodness,  and  thus  to 
have  grown  ugly  would  have  been  the  happiest  event 
of  her  life. 

Her  beauty  won  many  admirers  among  the  vil- 
lage swains,  but  of  all  who  flattered  or  followed  her, 
young  Constant  was  the  most  sincere.  "While  he  de- 
plored her  folly,  he  loved  her  truly,  and  would  fain 
have  won  her  for  his  own.  But  the  haughty  beauty 
looked  disdainfully  on  her  rustic  lover.  She  prized 
her  charms  too  highly  to  offer  them  willingly  on  the 
shrine  of  homely  domestic  life,  and  waited,  like  the 
maiden  in  the  fairy  tale,  until  a  prince  or  a  noble- 
man should  come  along  and  woo  her. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  rich  lady  who  lived 
up  at  the  castle,  was  riding  that  way,  and  seeing 
Viola,  was  surprised  at  her  great  beauty.  Knowing 
something  of  her  family,  she  asked  the  young  girl  to 
come  up  to  the  castle  and  stay  a  few  days  with  her. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  149 

This  kind  lady  wished  to  discover  whether  Viola  was 
as  good  as  she  was  handsome,  as  in  that  case  she  was 
determined  to  be  her  friend.  This  distinction  quite 
turned  the  head  of  the  pretty  Viola ;  she  expected  a 
thousand  delightful  things  to  happen  in  consequence 
of  the  visit,  and  already  imagined  herself  riding  in  a 
grand  coach,  and  mixing  with  the  rich  and  great, 
quite  forgetful  of  her  former  friends.  So  busy  was 
she  building  castles  in  the  air,  that  she  kept  aloof 
from  all  her  associates,  beginning  already,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  future  greatness,  to  treat  them  with  cold  indif- 
ference. And  as  for  poor  Constant,  he  pined  beneath 
her  freezing  manner,  for  she  repented  heartily  the 
small  degree  of  favor  that  she  had  hitherto  vouch- 
safed him,  deigning  him  not  the  slightest  notice ;  and 
her  smiles,  always  rare,  were  now  as  unattainable  as 
the  philosopher's  stone,  and  (by  Constant  at  least)  as 
eagerly  sought  for. 

There  was  one  great  drawback  to  Viola's  dreams 
of  felicity.  Her  pride  could  not  brook  the  thought  of 
appearing  at  the  castle  in  her  homely  clothes,  and 
how  to  procure  others  she  knew  not.  She  thought 
she  would  be  despised  on  account  of  her  dress,  for 
she  had  not  wisdom  enough  to  know,  that  the  kernel 
is  more  prized  than  the  shell,  and  that  a  diamond  will 
shine  in  the  dark. 

Viola  grieved  and  pined  away,  beneath  her  wound- 
13* 


150  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

ed  .vanity  and  unattainable  desire  for  fine  clothes, 
until  she  was  in  a  fair  way  to  lose  the  beauty  she  so 
much  valued.  She  became  sad  and  melancholy  as 
the  time  for  her  visit  approached,  and  was  sometimes 
tempted  to  forget  it  altogether. 

One  evening  as  she  walked  disconsolately  through 
the  wood,  she  threw  herself  beside  a  bright  fountain 
that  lavished  its  silvery  waters  willingly  in  the  soli- 
tude, as  though  every  tree  had  been  admiringly  bent 
over  it.  Viola  saw  the  reflection  of  her  own  fair  face 
in  the  clear  depths,  and  Narcissus-like  gazed  long  and 
admiringly  upon  it.  Then  sighing  heavily,  she  said, 
repiningly : 

"  Oh,  cruel  fate,  that  granting  me  a  beautiful  per- 
son, denied  me  the  power  to  adorn  it.  I  might  as 
well  have  been  born  the  ugliest  creature  in  the  world, 
since  none  will  expect  to  find  beauty  concealed  in 
these  miserable  rags." 

Tears  showered  from  her  eyes  as  she  bent  over 
the  fountain,  but  she  started  back  in  surprise,  for  she 
beheld  therein  the  reflection  of  two  other  faces  be- 
side her  own. 

She  thought  it  was  the  eddies  on  the  surface  that 
caused  this  threefold  reflection,  but  as  she  looked  up, 
there,  on  either  side  of  her,  stood  a  beautiful  female. 

The  figure  on  her  right,  was  tall  and  of  stately 
presence ;  her  dark  eyes  flashed  with  conscious  pow- 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  151 

er,  and  her  haughty,  yet  beautiful  features,  bore  the 
impress  of  command.  Upon  her  brow  she  wore  a 
tiara  of  rare  and  precious  gems ;  her  purple  robe  fell 
in  heavy  folds  to  her  feet,  and  was  confined  at  the 
waist  by  a  golden  zone  clasped  with  a  diamond  ser- 
pent. Her  arms  were  adorned  with  circlets  of  gold 
and  jewels,  and  she  carried  in  her  hand  a  golden  wand, 
on  the  top  of  which  was  a  superb  rose,  formed  of  the 
largest  rubies,  while  pure  emeralds,  representing  the 
green  leaves,  clustered  around  it. 

Equally  beautiful,  though  entirely  dissimilar,  was 
the  other  figure.  Her  slight  form,  flexile  as  the 
young  mountain  ash,  was  draped  in  a  robe  of  the 
purest  white,  that  floated  like  gossamer  about  her. 
Tresses  of  soft  golden  hair  fell  almost  to  her  feet,  and 
were  confined  at  the  temples  by  a  slender  silver  fillet 
inwrought  with  pearls.  She  carried  a  silver  wand, 
graced  with  a  single  rose  formed  of  delicate  pearls ; 
and  her  soft  violet  eyes  beamed  with  gentleness  and 
love. 

•  Viola  gazed  upon  these  beautiful  apparitions  with 
admiration  and  awe,  when  the  stately  lady  spoke : 

"Fear  not,  Viola,"  she  said,  "we  are  here  to  serve 
you.  In  us  you  behold  the  respective  queens  of  two 
kingdoms ;  it  is  our  privilege  to  select  every  year,  a 
young  maiden  upon  whom  to  bestow  our  benefits. 
Our  mutual  choice  has  fallen  upon  yourself;  but  as 


152  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

we  cannot  both  serve  you,  it  remains  for  you  to 
choose  "between  us,  which  you  prefer  to  be  your  guar- 
dian and  your  friend." 

Viola  listened  in  rnute  surprise  to  this  address, 
when  the  lady  of  the  White  Rose  said,  in  gentle 
tones : 

"  Before  the  maiden  can  make  a  choice,  she  must 
know  what  benefits  to  expect  from  each." 

"  True,"  replied  the  haughty  lady ;  "  let  her  see 
and  judge." 

So  saying,  she  approached  the  fountain,  and  wav- 
ing her  wand  above  it,  motioned  Viola  to  come  for- 
ward. 

Viola  bent  over  the  water,  and  there,  mirrored 
within  its  clear  depths,  she  beheld  the  interior  of  a 
spacious  apartment,  the  walls  of  which  were  hung 
with  gorgeous  tapestry,  and  the  floor  covered  with 
carpet  rich  in  velvet  flowers.  Rare  and  costly  arti- 
cles, such  as  had  never,  even  in  imagination,  delight- 
ed the  eyes  of  the  young  maiden,  filled  the  room. 
Rut  the  object  which  riveted  her  gaze,  was  the  figure 
of  a  beautiful  girl  seated  before  an  immense  mirror, 
adorning  her  hair  with  jewels  ;  every  variety  of  rare 
and  beautiful  ornaments  were  scattered  around  in 
rich  profusion,  and  in  the  female  form  so  magnifi- 
cently attired,  Viola  beheld  herself. 


FII1ESIDE      FAIPJES.  153 

The  delighted  girl  gazed  long  and  earnestly  upon 
',his  vision. 

The  Lady  of  the  Red  Rose  knew  well  what  would 
japtivate  her  fancy  and  gratify  her  pride. 

Even  as  she  looked,  the  scene  faded  away,  and  in 
ts  place  appeared  a  splendid  banquet  hall,  brilliant 
vith  light  and  beauty.  Crowds  of  persons  superbly 
Iressed  filled  the  apartment.  Tables  loaded  with 
rich  viands,  and  luscious  fruits,  and  vases  filled  with 
rare  exotics,  added  to  the  enchantment  of  the  scene. 

Upon  a  chair  at  the  extremity  of  the  chamber, 
ivas  seated  one  whose  attire  exceeded  all  others  in 
magnificence,  as  her  beauty  eclipsed  the  fairest  there. 
Each  guest  appeared  anxious  to  attract  her  notice, 
md  crowded  about  her  with  obsequious  attentions, 
happy  if  repaid  by  a  smile. 

With  a  thrill  of  triumph,  Viola  again  recognized, 
in  the  proud  queen  of  the  banquet,  the  reflection  of 
aerself. 

As  the  scene  faded  from  her  view,  she  turned 
inquiringly  towards  the  Lady  of  the  Red  Rose,  who, 
knowing  what  she  would  ask,  said  smilingly : 

"  You  have  beheld,  Viola,  some  of  the  gifts  I  have 
in  my  power  to  bestow,  and  have  seen  shadowed  forth 
the  fate  that  awaits  you,  if  you  make  me  your  chosen 
guide  and  friend." 

Viola  was  about  eagerly  expressing  her  gratitude, 


154  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

and  accepting  the  proffered  good,  when  the  Lady  ( 
the  White  Hose  advanced  and  said : 

"  Viola,  yon  will  at  least  look  upon  the  gifts 
proffer  yon,  though  I  fear  they  will  prove  unattra< 
tive." 

There  was  something  irresistibly  sweet  and  pei 
suasive  in  the  gentle  lady's  voice,  and  with  a  feelin 
of  shame,  Viola  once  more  looked  upon  the  fountain 

The  fairy  waved  her  silver  wand  above  the  watei 
and  immediately  there  appeared  a  rustic  scene  c 
perfect  beauty.  A  white  cottage  nestled  among  th 
trees,  like  a  dove  in  its  nest.  Delicate  vines,  rich  h 
fragrant  blossoms,  curtained  the  open  lattice,  an* 
twined  about  the  door.  A  small  stream  wound,  lik 
a  silver  ribbon,  amid  the  velvet  fields,  and  over  al 
breathed  an  air  of  perfect  repose. 

A  form,  gracefully  yet  plainly  attired,  knelt  b; 
the  brook-side  with  a  pitcher  in  her  hand. 

Viola  saw  the  reflection  of  the  young  girl's  coun 
tenance  in  the  stream  :  it  was  her  own. 

A  scene  like  this  had  no  charm  for  the  youn| 
maiden,  who  had  just  beheld  such  gorgeous  visions 
and  she  turned  aside  with  a  dissatisfied  air. 

When  she  looked  again  the  scene  was  changed 
and  she  saw  a  happy  group,  bearing  garlands  o 
flowers,  and  strewing  them  before  a  maiden,  who 
seated  upon  a  green  bank,  appeared  the  centre  o: 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  155 

attraction.  Purely  arrayed  in  white,  and  crowned 
with  roses,  it  was  evident  that  she  had  been  chosen 
queen  of  the  May.  The  simple  dress  became  her 
well,  and  with  a  feeling  of  satisfied  vanity,  Yiola  re- 
cognized herself  in  the  lovely  May  queen. 

She  observed  too,  that  there  was  something  more 
than  mere  admiration  in  the  faces  of  the  group ;  they 
seemed  to  love  their  chosen  queen,  and  no  trace  of 
envy  was  discernible  among  them.  All  was  innocent 
mirth,  and  unalloyed  happiness. 

Yiola  turned  away  and  sighed.  For  one  moment 
she  felt  that  it  was  better  to  be  loved  than  admired  ; 
but  her  eyes  were  yet  dazzled  with  the  gorgeous  pa- 
geant she  had  witnessed,  and  rising,  she  approached 
the  Lady  of  the  Red  Rose,  and  bowed  before  her. 

The  stately  lady  smiled  graciously  upon  her,  an 
then  bending  the  ruby  rose  that  graced  her  wand, 
toward  the  ground,  there  instantly  appeared  a  beau- 
tiful rose-tree,  laden  with  crimson  buds.      The  lady 
placed  the  tree  in  Viola's  hand,  and  said : 

"  I  know  what  your  present  desires  are,  and  this 
rose-tree  will  accomplish  them  for  you.  Whenever 
you  make  a  wish,  pluck  a  bud  and  place  it  in  your 
bosom  ;  your  wish  will  then  be  immediately  fulfilled. 
You  must  be  very  careful  to  keep  the  tree  well 
watered;  if  you  let  it  wither  you  will  forfeit  my 
favor,  and  lose  the  good  I  have  in   store  for  you. 


156  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

When  the  buds  are  all  plucked  save  one,  bring  the 
last  one  hither,  and  cast  it  in  the  fountain,  when  the 
tree  will  immediately  be  covered  with  flowers  again." 

With  sparkling  eyes  Yiola  received  the  rose-tree, 
and  promised  to  tend  it  carefully ;  but  when  she 
would  have  expressed  her  gratitude,  the  stately  lady 
had  disappeared. 

As  Yiola  stood  an  instant  in  astonishment,  the 
Lady  of  the  White  Rose  approached;  she  held  in  her 
hand  a  rose-tree,  filled  with  white  moss  buds,  which 
she  presented  to  the  young  girl,  saying  mildly :     - 

u  You  will  not  prize  my  gift,  Yiola,  as  your  choice 
is  made,  but  should  the  time  come  when  the  pleasure 
you  now  seek  has  lost  its  charm,  you  will  find  a  balm 
in  this  tree.  Whenever  you  place  a  bud  in  your 
bosom,  you  will  feel  contentment  and  peace.  It  will 
bring  you  also  the  gratification  of  all  moderate  de- 
sires. Every  time  you  gather  a  bud  from  the  crim- 
son tree,  one  of  these  will  wither ;  but  I  beseech  you, 
Yiola,  let  it  not  perish  from  neglect;  save  at  least 
one  flower,  and  cast  it  on  the  fountain  when  you  need 
a  friend." 

Yiola  accepted  the  proffered  gift  with  downcast 
lids,  and  ere  she  could  raise  her  eyes,  the  gentle  lady, 
also,  had  vanished  from  her  gaze. 

Upon  her  return  home,  Yiola  placed  the  two  rose- 
trees  in  her  room,  and  anxious  to  test  the  power  of 


FIE.ESIDE      FAIRIES. 


157 


the  stately  lady  from  whom  she  expected  so  much, 
she  plucked  a  bud  from  the  crimson  rose-tree,  and 
placing  it  in  her  bosom,  wished  for  a  handsome  dress, 
to  wear  the  next  day  up  to  the  castle. 

Immediately  there  appeared  before  her  a  rich 
robe  of  silk,  trimmed  with  lace,  and  knots  of  ribbon, 
far  more  elegant  than  any  thing  she  had  ever  seen. 

Viola  was  delighted  at  this  proof  of  the  rose-tree's 
virtues,  and  after  arraying  herself  in  her  new  dress, 
and  admiring  her  person  to  her  heart's  content,  she 
laid  it  carefully  aside,  and  retired  to  dream  of  future 
enjoyment. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Viola  prepared  for  her 
intended  visit,  taking  care  to  secrete  the  new  dress 
within  the  bundle  containing  her  ordinary  clothes. 
She  listened  with  ill  disguised  impatience  to  her 
mother,  who  cautioned  her  to  behave  well,  and  per- 
haps the  rich  lady  would  give  her  a  situation  at  the 
castle.  The  good  woman  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
dreams  that  filled  her  daughter's  brain  ;  and  Viola 
hastened  to  depart.  You  may  be  sure  she  did  not 
forget  the  crimson  rose-tree ;  but  she  left  the  white 
one  behind,  thinking  that  she  could  have  nothing  to 
desire,  other  than  her  beloved  red  rose  could  grant. 

When  Viola  had  proceeded  some  distance,  she 
stepped  aside  into  the  thickest  of  the  wood,  and  after 
carefully  arraying  herself  in  her  rich  dress,  hid  her 
14 


158  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

bundle  of  clothes  among  the  bushes.  As  she  sur- 
veyed herself  in  the  stream,  that  had  served  her  for 
a  mirror,  she  was  very  well  satisfied  with  her  appear- 
ance, and  flattered  herself  that  she  would  make  quite 
a  sensation. 

Suddenly  the  thought  struck  her,  that  a  lady  of 
her  apparent  rank  never  travelled  on  foot ;  she  there- 
fore determined  to  test  the  powers  of  her  rose-tree 
still  farther ;  and  placing  a  bud  in  her  bosom,  wished 
for  a  carriage.  With  the  word,  there  appeared  a 
superb  coach  standing  in  the  road  ! 

Yiola  was  enraptured ;  but  she  had  neglected  to 
wish  for  horses,  and  consequently  no  horses  were  there. 
With  a  smile  at  her  own  stupidity,  the  young  girl 
plucked  another  bud,  and  wished  for  a  fine  pair  of 
horses :  in  an  instant  they  stood  before  the  carriage. 

Another  and  another  bud  was  placed  in  her  bosom, 
as  she  desired  a  coachman,  footman,  and  outriders, 
who  all,  like  well-disciplined  servants,  came  at  her  call. 
With  the  air  of  a  princess,  Viola  stepped  into  the 
coach,  the  footman  handed  her  the  precious  rose-tree, 
the  driver  touched  his  horses,  and  away  they  rattled 
toward  the  castle. 

The  gates  were  obsequiously  opened  by  the  porter 
when  he  saw  so  superb  an  equipage ;  and,  in  reply  to 
Viola's  inquiry  for  the  lady,  he  informed  her  that  she 
had  unexpectedly  left  home  for  a  few  days  to  visit  a 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES,  159 

isick  relative.  He  added,  that  there  was  at  present  a 
great  deal  of  company  at  the  castle  whom  his  mistress 
had  desired  to  stay  until  her  return,  and  that  as  Viola 
was  doubtless,  an  expected  guest,  he  knew  his  lady 
would  be  offended  if  she  refused  to  remain. 

This  information  delighted  Viola,  who  scarcely 
knew  how  to  introduce  herself.  She  had  determined 
to  tell  the  lady  that  a  relative  had  unexpectedly  died 
and  left  her  a  fortune  ;  but  she  was  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  become  familiarized  in  her  new  position  be- 
fore she  met  her  hostess. 

With  a  heart  swelling  with  pride,  Viola  stepped 
from  the  carriage  and  swept  into  the  hall,  amid  a 
crowd  of  admiring  servants,  each  contending  for  the 
honor  of  conducting  the  beautiful  stranger  to  her 
apartments.  With  an  air  of  haughty  condescension 
she  permitted  them  to  lead  the  way ;  but  she  trembled 
with  anxiety  on  beholding  her  invaluable  rose-tree 
carried  by  an  officious  menial. 

During  her  drive,  Viola  had  occasionally  felt  a 
sharp  sting  in  her  breast,  as  though  pierced  by  & 
thorn ;  her  mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  bright 
visions  to  heed  it  much;  but  now,  as  she  passed 
through  the  splendid  corridors  with  the  step  of  an 
empress,  and  elated  with  pride,  the  stinging  b.  ne 
intolerable,  and  looking  down,  she  observ  it  the 

stems  of  the  buds  were  covered  wit.1  thorns.    On  enter- 


160  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

ing  the  room  appropriated  to  her,  she  closed  the  door, 
and  impatiently  snatching  the  flowers  from  her  bosom, 
threw  them  out  of  the  window.  At  the  same  moment 
she  noted  with  surprise  the  disappearance  of  her  ele- 
gant equipage ;  and  a  servant  entering  hastily,  with 
an  astonished  face,  said  that,  on  going  to  show  the 
coachman  the  way  to  the  stables,  the  carriage  and 
attendants  were  not  to  be  found. 

Yiola  replied,  with  a  well-dissembled  air,  that  she 
had  ordered  the  carriage  to  return,  as  she  should  not 
need  it  until  her  departure.  The  servant  bowed  low 
and  withdrew,  leaving  the  young  girl  who  had  so  rea- 
dily coined  a  falsehood,  to  wonder  at  the  strange  dis- 
appearance of  her  fairy  coach. 

After  some  reflection,  Yiola  attributed  the  loss  of 
her  equipage  to  her  impatient  casting  away  of  the  rose- 
buds, and  resolved  to  be  more  careful  in  future. 

Yiola  was  amazed  and  delighted  with  the  elegant 
appearance  of  every  thing  about  her  ;  she  spent  some 
time  in  admiring  the  costly  furniture,  and  then,  with 
a  beating  heart,  placed  one  of  the  magical  rose-buds 
in  her  bosom,  and  wished  for  a  dress  suited  to  the 
occasion. 

Great  was  the  sensation  created  when  Yiola,  ele- 
gantly attired,  appeared  among  the  assembled  guests. 
Murmurs  of  admiration  greeted  her  on  every  side,  and 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  161 

3ach  person  supposing  her  to  be  a  lady  of  rank,  was 
solicitous  to  show  her  attention. 

The  young  girl  felt  constrained  and  uneasy  in  her 
novel  position ;  she  was  conscious  of  her  ignorance  of 
the  polished  forms  of  society,  and  feared  to  betray 
herself  by  some  palpable  awkwardness. 

Her  rare  beauty,  however,  heightened  by  the 
splendid  dress  that  she  wore,  carried  every  thing  tri- 
umphantly before  it.  Her  silence  was  attributed  to 
modesty,  and  her  mistakes  to  the  manners  of  a  foreign 
court.  The  gentlemen  overwhelmed  her  with  assi- 
duities and  flattery,  and  the  ladies  concealed  their 
envy  beneath  the  deference  due  to  her  supposed  rank. 

In  a  few  days  Viola  became  familiar  with  her  new 
position,  and  received  the  adulation  that  showered 
upon  her  as  her  just  due.  It  seemed  evident  that  she 
was  a  person  of  high  station,  perhaps  even  a  princess, 
and  Viola  found  herself  entangled  in  a  perfect  net  of 
deceit.  She  was  obliged  to  tell  falsehood  upon  false- 
hood, in  answer  to  any  inquiries  casually  made  her ; 
but  her  brain  was  so  completely  turned  with  vanity 
and  pride,  that  she  could  scarcely  distinguish  the  true 
from  the  false,  and  actually  began  to  believe  herself 
the  great  lady  she  pretended  to  be. 

Elated  with  triumph,  she  became  haughty  and  in- 
solent; the  most  trifling  slight  was  construed  into  an 
14* 


162  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

intentional  affront ;  and  though  flattered  and  courted, 
the  beautiful  stranger  was  not  beloved. 

The  rose-buds  disappeared  rapidly  from  the  tree  in 
fullix" :ng  her  extravagant  desires;  and  though  often 
in  the  midst  of  gayety,  she  felt  their  thorns  pierce  her 
breast,  yet  she  had  learned  that  to  cast  them  aside 
would  be  to  lose  the  gifts  they  brought ;  and  so  nerved 
herself  to  bear  the  sting,  thus  making  herself  a  mar- 
tyr to  vanity  and  pride. 

The  rose-buds  were  all  plucked,  save  two,  and 
Viola  determined  upon  an  immediate  visit  to  the 
fountain.  She  was  endeavoring  to  form  a  plausible 
excuse  for  leaving  the  castle,  when  she  was  invited  to 
join  a  party  who  intended  riding  out.  Viola  looked 
remarkably  handsome  on  horseback,  and  she  fancied 
that  one  young  nobleman  of  the  party  felt  something 
more  than  admiration  for  her.  She  could  not  resist 
the  opportunity  of  appearing  to  advantage  before 
him,  and  thus  her  vanity  overcoming  prudence,  she 
deferred  her  visit  to  the  fountain  and  joined  the  riders. 
Very  beautiful  she  looked  in  the  elegant  riding- 
dress,  procured  by  the  magical  rose-tree.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  with  gratified  vanity  as  she  listened  to  the 
compliments  that  were  poured  into  her  willing  ear, 
her  cheek  glowed  with  exercise,  and  her  long  ringlets 
floated  on  the  breeze. 

So  interested  was  Viola  in  a  conversation  with 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


163 


ia  attendant  admirer,  that  she  did  not  notice  their 
pproach  towards  her  native  villag  nntil  the  party 
-aused  to  admire  the  fine  landscape  ,  id  some  chil- 
dren stopping  in  the  road  to  gaze  on  9  gay  caval- 
%de,  one  of  them  ran  towards  her,  excla  iing : 
i  "Viola  has  come  hack!  Viola  has  come  hack! 
Constant,  come  and  see !  here  is  Viola  grown  a  rich 
idy,  and  come  home  to  see  us  again !" 

Confused  and  surprised  at  this  unexpected  recog- 
nition, Viola  looked  up,  and  perceiving  that  they 
pie  entering  the  village  where  her  days  of  poverty 
(?ere  passed,  urged  her  horse  to  a  brisker  pace.  But 
(ier  habit  had  become  entangled  in  some  briers,  and 
'ks  she  hastily  endeavored  to  extricate  it,  the  branches 
vere  parted,  and  to  her  infinite  terror  and  dismay, 
ponstant  stood  before  her. 

He  paused  an  instant  on  beholding  the  party, — 
gazed  earnestly  on  Viola,  then  springing  forward 
;with  a  broken  cry  of  joy,  exclaimed: 

"Viola!  yes,  it  is  indeed  herself!  but  oh,  how 
wonderful  is  this  !" 

The  blood  rushed  to  her  face  at  this  address,  and 
not  daring  to  look  at  the  speaker,  she  waved  him 
aside  with  a  haughty  gesture,  and  would  have 
passed  on. 

But  Constant  would  not  be  thus  repulsed  ;  laying 
his  hand  on  the  neck  of  the  steed,  he  said  earnestly : 


164  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

"  Lady,  if  you  are  indeed  mortal,  and  not  a  beau 
tiful  vision  sent  to  mock  my  hopes,  speak  to  me  bu 
one  word ;  say  that  you  remember  Constant." 

Thus  adjured,  Viola  dared  not  refuse  an  answer 
The  gaze  of  her  companions  was  riveted  upon  this 
strange  scene.  Viola  felt  that  every  thing  depended 
upon  her  self-possession,  and  lifting  her  eyes  with  a 
look  of  assumed  surprise  to  the  haggard  countenance 
of  her  former  lover,  replied  with  forced  composure : 

"  I  remember  no  one  of  that  name,  young  man : 
neither  am  I  the  person  you  suppose.— Poor  fellow,'' 
she  added,  turning  with  a  compassionate  air  to  her 
companions,  « I  fear  he  must  be  crazed." 

The  expression  of  anguish  with  which  Constant 
heard  these  words,  would  have  melted  any  other  than 
a  pride-incrusted  heart.  He  had  no  farther  doubts, 
her  voice  had  too  long  echoed  in  his  inmost  soul  to  be 
ever  forgotten.  Why  she  appeared  thus  richly  attired, 
and  surrounded  by  the  gay  and  great,  he  knew  not; 
it  was  enough  that  he  saw  her  living,  and  more  beau- 
tiful than  ever. '  She  should  not  leave  him  thus. 

Placing  his  hand  firmly  upon  the  bridle,  he  spoke 
again  in  a  voice  choked  with  intensity  of  feeling: 

"  Viola— for  Viola  you  are,  despite  your  haughty 
look  and  gay  attire— hear  me  one  moment  for  the 
sake  of  your  mother,  whose  life  is  ebbing  fast  with 
grief.     Your  clothes  were  found  upon  the  bank  of  a 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  165 

,ream  in  the  wood ;  we  thought  you  were  drowned, 
id  sought  for  you  in  vain.  Inspired  with  one  faint 
3pe,  I  asked  for  you  at  the  castle ;  none  had  seen 
du,  and  we  mourned  you  dead.  Oh,  Viola,  I  know 
ot  how  you  have  become  the  rich  and  great  lady  you 
ow  appear.  I  seek  not  to  learn ;  but  come  with  me, 
lough  but  for  a  moment,  to  cheer  your  mother's 
eart  with  the  truth  that  you  live,  though  it  may  be, 
>st  to  us  forever." 

This  appeal  only  excited  intense  anger  in  Viola's 
reast.  She  saw  herself  betrayed,  cast  from  her  false 
nsition,  and  exposed  to  the  scorn  of  those  she  had 
.eceived.  Every  feeling  of  duty  and  affection  was 
rushed  beneath  the  weight  of  selfishness  and  pride 
hat  filled  her  heart.  Had  her  mother  knelt  at  her 
eet,  she  would  have  spurned  her  in  that  moment  of 
mgex  and  mortification ;  and  thus,  with  a  counte- 
lance  pale  with  suppressed  emotion,  she  haughtily 

exclaimed : 

"Will  no  one  release  me  from  these  insults?" 
Ihen  turning  with  flashing  eyes  to  Constant— 

"Unhand  me,  sir;  I  know'you  not!"  she  said, 
and  striking  the  horse  severely  with  her  riding-whip, 
the  animal  sprang  forward,  and  Constant  sank  upon 

the  ground. 

Various  and  conflicting  were  the  emotions  that 
filled  Viola's  breast  on  her  homeward  ride  ;  but  amid 


166  FIRL       DE      FAIRIES. 

all  the  anger,  mortification,  and  dread  of  discovei 
that  raged  by  turns,  there  was  no  place  for  a  sing 
emotion  of  regret  urging  her  to  do  her  duty.  St 
saw  that  she  was  suspected  of  being  an  impostor,  an 
as  this  conviction  forced  itself  upon  her,  she  felt  tb 
thorns  of  the  rose-bud  she  wore,  pierce  her  bosom  wit 
redoubled  violence. 

The  adventure  gave  rise  to  many  conjectures  an 
remarks  among  the  party.  Viola  attempted  to  mat 
light  of  the  affair,  and  declared  it  a  poor  complimeu 
to  be  mistaken  for  an  ignorant  country  girl. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  castle,  her  consternatio 
was  increased  by  learning  that  the  mistress  herse' 
had  returned,  and  was  anxious  to  meet  her  friend* 
Yiola  wished  their  first  interview  to  be  private,  an 
endeavored  to  reach  her  apartment  unobserved.  Bu 
the  hostess  stood  upon  the  castle  steps  eager  to  we 
come  her  guests,  and  to  pass  unnoticed  was  in. 
possible. 

She  had  heard  from  the  servants  of  the  haught; 
and  beautiful  stranger  who  was  sojourning  there,  ant 
knew  not  who  it  could  be  that  thus  honored  her. 

Unfortunately  for  Viola,  the  lady's  carriage  ha< 
been  detained  in  the  village  for  a  siigV  '  >air,  an< 
she  had  heard  of  the  young  girl's  my<  disap 

pearance.      She  recognized  Viola  '       ,uiately,  anc 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  167 

iissembling  her  surprise,  accosted  Ler   courteously, 
sking  if  she  had  learned  her  mother's  illness  ? 

At  these  words  Viola  saw  that  farther  conceal- 
aent  was  impossible,  and  overcome  with  conflicting 
motions  fell  to  the  ground  insensible. 

Meanwhile  the  guests  related  to  their  hostess 
rhat  had  occurred  during  the  ride,  and  the  lady  of 
he  castle,  shocked  at  such  heartless  falsehood,  deter- 
lined  at  once  to  dismiss  her  guest. 

The  servants  were  ordered  o  bring  her  baggage 
rom  the  room  she  had  occu  1,  and  when  Viola  re- 
overed  from  her  swoon,  sh .  ind  all  the  company 
ssembled  around  her,  while  the  servants  crowded  in 
be  rear,  curious  to  witness  the  downfall  of  the  inso- 
mt  stranger. 

"  Viola,"  said  the  lady  of  the  castle,  "  I  have 
earned  with  horror  of  your  base  conduct  and  daring 
nposition.  Had  you  appeared  here  in  your  true 
osition,  I  would  have  been  your  firm  and  faithful 
•iend.  Since,  however,  you  have  seen  proper  to  im- 
ose  upon  my  guests  by  assuming  a  rank  to  which 
ou  have  no  claim,  I  pronounce  you  an  artful,  design- 
lg  impostor,  and  dismiss  you  fore^  rom  my  roof, 
low  you  so  suddenly  obtained  care  not  to 

sk,  it  is  sufficient  that  you  ha>  ied  it  to  the 

asest  uses,  deceiving  others,  -  hose  who 

laim  your  duty  and  af*  deceitfu. 


168  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

girl ;  these  are  your  possessions,  take  them  and  de- 
part." 

Humbled,  and  stung  to  the  soul,  Viola  turned 
from  the  door  without  a  word.  A  proud  reply  rose  to 
her  lips,  but  her  tongue  refused  its  office.  And  now 
the  rose-bud  in  her  bosom  pierced  her  with  an  agon- 
izing sting.  Yiola  impatiently  snatched  it  from  her 
breast  and  cast  it  from  her,  and  her  eye  resting  on 
the  rose-tree  that  stood  at  her  feet,  she  thrust  it 
aside,  exclaiming  passionately : 

"  Cruel  and  perfidious  fairy,  take  back  your  dan- 
gerous gift,  the  source  of  all  my  suffering  and  shame." 

No  sooner  had  she  spoken,  than  the  rose-tree 
disappeared,  together  with  all  the  rich  dresses  it  had 
brought ;  and  Viola,  like  a  second  Cinderella,  depart- 
ed in  rags  and  tatters  from  the  castle  gates  that  she 
had  entered  in  such  splendid  style  but  a  few  days 
before. 

Bewildered  and  overwhelmed  with  shame  and  des- 
pair, Viola  sped  on,  scarce  knowing  whither  she  went. 
Her  brain  reeled,  her  strength  failed,  and  she  at 
length  sunk  insensible  to  the  ground. 

When  Viola  again  returned  to  consciousness,  she 
was  lying  in  her  own  humble  chamber.  She  felt 
very  weak  and  faint,  and  it  was  some  minutes  before 
she  could  recall  any  thing  that  had  passed.     All  that 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  169 

ad  transpired  seemed  like  a  troubled  dream ;  but 
addenly  her  eyes  rested  on  the  white  rose-tree,  that 
fcood  green  and  flourishing  on  the  window  seat. 

Then  Viola  realized  her  past  folly,  and  covered 
er  face  in  an  agony  of  shame. 

Her  mother  softly  approached,  and  when  she  saw 
riola  awake  and  conscious,  tears  of  joy  rained  down 
er  face.  Viola  remembered  her  wicked  conduct,  and 
mid  not  bear  to  look  upon  her  mother ;  but  the  good 
Oman  quietly  brought  the  rose-tree  to  the  bedside 
ad  said  kindly : 

"You  have  talked  much  about  a  rose-tree,  my 
lild ;  see,  I  have  taken  good  care  of  this ;  it  is  strong 
ad  healthy,  though  all  the  buds  have  withered  and 
lien,  except  these  two."  As  she  spoke,  Viola  saw 
le  two  full,  pure  white  buds,  nestling  in  their  mossy 
)vering,  and  just  peeping  forth  amid  the  bright 
reen  leaves.  Their  fragrant  breath  floated  toward 
er  refreshingly,  and  then  she  remembered  the  pro- 
dse  of  the  gentle  fairy. 

With  an  effort  she  reached  forth  her  hand,  and 
lucking  a  bud,  placed  it  in  her  bosom. 

Then  there  stole  over  her  a  quiet  sense  of  happi- 
3SS  and  peace.  The  painful  regret  with  which  she 
imembered  the  past,  was  tempered  by  the  hope  of 
rgiveness ;  and  when  she  heard  a  gentle  tap  at  the 
)or,  and  the  anxious  voice  of  Constant  inquiring 
15 


170  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

tenderly  for  her,  she  asked  her  mother  to  bid  him 
enter.  And  then,  with  her  head  pillowed  on  hei 
mother's  arm,  and  her  hand  clasped  in  that  of  hei 
faithful  friend,  she  told  them  all  the  story  of  the 
fairies  at  the  fountain — her  choice — and  the  aftei 
scenes  of  folly  and  pride.  She  did  not  conceal  the 
disgrace  she  had  suffered,  nor  the  sinful  thoughts 
that  filled  her  heart.  And  when  she  besought  then 
forgiveness,  who  can  doubt  that  it  was  freely  given  ? 

Then  she  heard  in  return,  how  Constant  returned 
after  his  cruel  repulse,  and  told  her  mother  all  that 
had  passed,  and  the  sick  parent  arose  from  her  bed. 
determined  to  find  her  daughter,  and  fathom  the 
mystery — how  Constant  accompanied  her,  and  they 
found  the  object  of  their  search,  senseless  in  the 
wood.  Tenderly  they  carried  her  home,  and  foi 
many  days  she  had  raved  in  high  delirium,  seeming 
to  live  over  again  the  scenes  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  very  frequently  mentioning  the  stately 
lady  and  the  red  rose-tree. 

All  this,  and  more,  she  heard  with  penitent  tears, 
while  the  soft  white  bud  rested  like  a  dove  of  peace 
in  her  bosom,  and  she  was  happy. 

Yiola  rose  from  her  bed  of  sickness  an  altered 
being.  Her  pride  and  selfishness  were  gone  for  ever, 
and  in  their  stead  appeared  gentleness,  and  kindly 
love  to  all.     It  was  wonderful  how  the  white  moss 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  171 

md  retained  its  freshness,  showing  no  symptom  of 
iecay,  but  sending  forth  each  day,  a  more  delicious 
ragrance.  And  though  the  white  rose  triumphed  on 
he  cheek,  as  well  as  in  the  bosom  of  Viola,  to  one, 
it  least,  she  appeared  more  beautiful,  as  to  all  she 
pas  more  loveable  than  before. 

As  soon  as  her  strength  returned,  Viola  carried 
he  now  treasured  rose-tree  to  the  fairy  fountain,  and 
vith  a  lingering  gaze  of  gratitude,  plucked  the  last 
emaining  bud,  and  cast  it  on  the  water,  murmuring 
ier  wish  for  a  friend. 

As  the  flower  floated  on  the  surface,  Viola  ex- 
acted to  see  the  gentle  lady  appear,  but  a  slight 
•ustling  of  the  leaves  attracted  her,  and  turning,  she 
>eheld  Constant. 

In  his  hand  was  the  beautiful  rose-tree,  now  again 
aden  with  its  fragrant  burden ;  and  as  he  presented 
I  to  Viola,  Constant  spoke  gently : 

"  Let  me  be  your  truest  friend,  Viola ;  the  past 
ihall  be  forgotten,  and  we  will  yet  be  happy." 

Viola  looked  up  with  an  answering  smile ;  then 
)lucking  two  buds,  she  gave  one  to  her  companion, 
md  placing  the  other  in  her  bosom,  said  earnestly : 

"  I  only  wish  to  prove  worthy  of  your  kindness 
md  esteem." 

Constant  pressed  the  hand  extended  to  him,  and 


172  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES, 

putting  the  bud  in  his  breast,  a  sense  of  perfect  hap- 
piness filled  the  heart  of  each. 

But  Viola,  as  she  bent  over  the  fountain  to  hide 
the  emotion  that  swelled  in  her  heart,  saw  far  away 
in  the  clear,  bright  depths  of  the  silver  water,  a 
sweet  face  smiling  back  upon  her  own,  and  she  knew 
it  was  her  guardian  spirit,  the  gentle  fairy  of  the 
pure  White  Rose. 


"  But  the  story  is  not  finished,"  cried  little  Lily, 
as  Aunt  Elsie  ceased. 

"  I  have  read  all  that  is  therein  written,"  replied 
the  kind  old  lady,  with  a  smile.  "Viola  has  re- 
nounced her  folly  and  chosen  the  better  part ;  what 
better  ending  can  you  desire  ?" 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Norah  G-raham,  "  it  ought  to 
tell  how  she  married  Constant,  and  lived  in  the  little 
white  cottage,  and  was  happy  all  the  days  of  her  life." 

"  And  how  the  white  rose-tree  was  always  in  blos- 
som, and  never  failed  her,"  added  Jessie  Lester. 

"  And  that  the  moss  buds  never  bore  a  thorn," 
said  her  sister  May. 

"  It  might  have  told  that  the  first  use  she  made 
of  her  magical  tree,  was  to  contribute  to  her  mother's 
happiness,"  remarked  Mary  Parker. 

"  And  that  she  never  again  saw  the  false  fairy  of 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  173 

the  red  rose,  and  never  was  proud  any  more,"  chimed 
in  little  Lily. 

"Really,  my  little  people,"  replied  Aunt  Elsie, 
laughing  at  their  earnestness,  "  you  have  finished  the 
story  for  yourselves,  much  better  than  I  could  have 
done  for  you.  And  now,  can  you  tell  me  what  the 
two  fairies  represent  ?" 

"  The  Red  Rose  fairy  was  Pride,"  said  Grace, 
"and  the  thorns  on  the  buds,  the  sting  that  foolish, 
vain  pride  always  inflicts." 

"  And  the  White  Rose  is  Humility,"  added  Clara, 
"  and  its  sweet  fragrance  is  gentleness  and  modesty." 

"And  1"  am  Viola,"  interrupted  Bertha,  sobbing 
on  Aunt  Elsie's  bosom,  "  for  I  too  have  cast  aside 
pride  and  chosen  humility.  Oh,  Aunt  Elsie,  I  ask 
your  forgiveness  for  endeavoring  to  deceive  you ;  and 
yours,"  she  added,  turning  to  her  companions,  "  for 
my  foolish  vanity  in  trying  to  outshine  you  last 
night.  I  never  passed  a  more  miserable  evening,  and 
its  remembrance  will  always  prevent  me  wearing  the 
red  rose  of  pride,  since  I  have  experienced  the  sting 
of  its  thorns." 


W 


174  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

At  the  close  of  a  short,  bright  winter  day,  the  young 
people  assembled  once  more  in  the  cheerful  parlor. 
Never  had  that  pleasant  old  room  worn  a  more  com- 
fortable and  home-like  appearance  than  now,  in  the 
thick-coming  shadows  of  night. 

The  lights  had  not  been  brought,  and  the  fitful 
flame  from  the  great  hickory  logs  flung  grotesque  sha- 
dows on  the  walls,  and  illuminated  the  old  family  por- 
traits, seeming  to  warm  their  faded  countenances  into 
a  genial  smile.  The  glass  doors  of  the  old  bookcase 
gleamed  invitingly  in  the  fire-light ;  and  even  the  co- 
lorless groups  of  flowers  on  the  well-worn  screens, 
grew  brighter  and  fresher  in  that  ruddy  glow. 

The  young  party  were  clustered  in  groups  on  the 
sofas,  and  Lily  as  usual  with  her  head  on  Aunt  Elsie's 
knee,  while  the  old  lady  fondly  put  back  the  golden 
curls  from  the  child's  brow,  and  looked  tenderly  and 
thoughtfully  upon  her  cloudless  face. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  175 

Within  all  was  light  and  warmth — without,  intense 
cold.  It  was  one  of  those  bright,  still  nights  when  the 
very  moonbeams  seem  to  freeze  you  beneath  their  cold 
unvarying  light.  Long  icicles  hung  from  the  leaf- 
less boughs  and  the  low  eaves,  while  for  miles  around 
the  country  presented  one  vast  unbroken  tract  of 
snow.  A  few  clouds  crept  slowly  athwart  the  sky,  as 
though  they  too  felt  the  benumbing  influence  of  the 
freezing  weight  they  bore,  and  sometimes  passed  be- 
fore the  moon  as  if  to  gather  warmth  from  her  rays ; 
but  she  only  tinged  them  with  her  pale  cold  light, 
and  watched  them  unmoved  as  they  wearily  journey- 
ed on,  while  the  countless  stars  far  away  twinkled 
and  sparkled  merrily  like  so  many  tiny  silver  span- 
gles on  the  dark  blue  sky. 

One  stray  moonbeam  peeped  in  through  the  win- 
dow, and  fell  like  a  silver  arrow  on  the  floor  of  the  old 
parlor  ;  but  it  did  not  mingle  its  pale  cold  light  with 
the  warm,  ruddy  glow  of  the  crackling  flame ;  there 
was  no  congeniality  between  them;  and  while  the 
flickering  fire-light  went  leaping  and  frolicking  over 
floor  and  furniture  like  a  playful  child,  kissing  a  fresh 
cheek  until  it  burned  with  the  ardent  salute,  form- 
ing tall  giants  from  the  shadows  of  unconscious 
china  jars,  and  painting  droll  profiles  on  the  wall, 
in  all  the  uproarious  merriment  of  good-natured 
warmth ;    the  pale  moonbeam  rested  motionless  and 


176  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

cold  where  first  it  fell.  It  seemed  like  a  fair,  proud 
beauty,  chilling  in  her  very  loveliness,  and  was  as 
much  out  of  place  in  that  cozy,  heart-warming  dear 
old  parlor,  with  that  group  of  joyous  mirth-loving 
childhood,  as  any  stately  beauty  would  have  been. 

The  children  were  engaged  in  the  game  of  "What 
are  my  thoughts  like  ;"  and  much  ingenuity  was  dis- 
played in  their  comparisons.  All  save  one  united 
in  the  amusement — little  Frank  Field  sat  alone  in 
the  window  seat,  and  silently  looked  out  upon  the 
sky. 

Presently  Norah  Graham  came  softly,  and  peep- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  exclaimed : 

"  Frank  is  watching  the  moon  playing  hide  and 
go  seek  with  the  stars." 

"Then  his  thoughts  are  like  moonshine,"  cried 
Ernest. 

Frank  looked  up,  and  smiled  as  he  said  : 

"  I  was  looking  at  that  large  cloud ;  see  how  ex- 
actly it  has  taken  the  appearance  of  a  great  castle ; 
there  are  the  turrets  complete,  with  the  moon  just 
rising  above  them. 

"  That  is  just  like  you,  Frank,  always  building 
castles  in  the  air,"  replied  Lucy  Parker,  who  now 
joined  them;  "take  care  lest  they  come  tumbling 
about  your  ears  some  day. 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  177 

But  Frank  still  looked  thoughtfully  out  upon  the 
:y,  as  he  said  musingly  : 

"  I  like  best  to  watch  the  clouds  at  sunset ;  some- 
nes  they  seem  like  great  armies  meeting,  or  large 
asses  of  rock  rolling  together ;  and  often  they  fall 
te  a  purple  canopy  fringed  with  gold  above  a  kingly 
rone." 

"  And  then  you  imagine  yourself  a  king  upon  the 
rone,  I  suppose,"  added  Lucy  Parker,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Sometimes,"  replied  Frank,  quietly. 

"  The  imagination  is  better  than  the  reality,  I 
ink,"  added  Harry  Wilder ;  "  for  my  part,  I  should 
)t  like  to  be  a  king." 

"  Nor  I,"  answered  Frank,  musingly ;  "  though  I 
ould  like  to  become  great  and  famous  when  I  grow 
man." 

"  That  I  hope  and  trust  you  will  be,"  now  spoke 
unt  Elsie ;  "  great  in  all  good  works,  and  build  a 
ue  and  never-dying  fame  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  love 
>u.  It  was  a  favorite  remark  of  a  friend,"  she  con- 
aued,  "  that  a  peasant  sitting  in  his  chimney  corner 
id  imagining  himself  a  king,  was  really  happier  than 
e  sovereign  himself.  Imagination  is  a  wonderful 
)wer,  and  does  much  towards  investing  life  with 
jw  beauty,  or  enveloping  it  in  gloom.  It  is  very 
rong  to  indulge  it  to  excess,  and  you,  my  dear 
rank,  particularly,  should  keep  yours  in  check,  lest 


178 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 


it  run  away  with  your  reason,  and  so  unfit  you  for  t 
duties  of  life." 

"  Harry  often  calls  me  a  day-dreamer,"  repli 
Frank,  "  but  I  do  not  exactly  understand  him." 

Aunt  Elsie  answered : 

"  I  suspect  he  means  that  you  sometimes  drh 
too  deeply  of  the  Diamond  Fountain,  as  the  boy  di 
who  was  lost  in  the  woods." 

"  Now  we  shall  have  another  story,"  cried  litt 
Lily,  starting  up.  "  Dear  Aunt  Elsie,  shall  I  brir 
the  lights  ?" 

"No,"  replied  the  old  lady;  "I  shall  need  i 
other  light  than  the  cheerful  glow  that  falls  on  the: 
happy  faces.  My  story  is  a  very  short  one,  and 
can  relate  it  from  memory ;  it  is  called 


€\t  Siitmmtu'  /mratnk 

In  a  large  forest,  far  away  from  all  the  habitatioc 
of  men,  there  lived  an  old  hermit,  with  one  little  bo 
named  Rolph. 

The  hermit  had  not  passed  all  his  days  in  sol 
tude ;  he  had  spent  many  years  amid  the  bustle  c 
life,  but  weariness  and  disappointment  fell  upon  hiir 
and  he   turned   away  from   the   ceaseless   striving 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  179 

of  mankind,  to  seek  repose  in  the   silent,  peaceful 
woods. 

Kolph  had  been  carefully  instructed  by  the 
hermit  in  many  useful  things,  and  was  generally 
contented  and  happy.  But  sometimes  he  felt  very 
lonely  without  a  companion,  and  often  walked  amid 
the  tall  old  trees,  listening  to  the  voice  of  the  wind 
among  the  leaves,  and  thinking  it  spoke  to  him  in  an 
unknown  tongue. 

The  hermit  sometimes  whiled  away  the  long 
winter  nights,  in  tales  of  the  wonderful  things  he  had 
seen  in  the  large  cities  where  he  once  had  lived ;  and 
as  Rolph  listened  eagerly,  he  conceived  a  strong  de- 
sire to  visit  the  great  world  that  spread  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  forest  home,  and  to  enjoy  these  won- 
derful sights  himself. 

This  idea  gained  strength  every  day.  Sometimes 
he  thought  he  would  find  his  way  out  of  the  woods 
before  the  hermit  missed  him,  but  he  could  not  bear 
to  leave  his  kind  protector  in  this  ungrateful  manner, 
and  so  pined  away  in  fruitless  dreams  of  the  bright 
and  gay  world,  that  seemed  like  a  vision  of  fairy  land 
to  his  imagination. 

The  hermit  saw  what  was  passing  in  the  boy's 
mind,  and  endeavored  to  uproot  the  longings  he  had 
unwittingly  sown. 

He  told  Rolph  how  much  wickedness  and  deceit 


180  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

dwelt  in  the  world;  and  said  that  even  the  fairest 
flowers  there,  bore  thorns,  and  the  most  delightful 
pleasures  left  a  sting  behind.  He  painted  life  and 
the  world  in  the  darkest  colors  of  disappointment 
and  distrust ;  but  Rolph's  ardent  fancy  decked  even 
this  picture  with  sunshine,  and  he  still  desired  to  see 
and  judge  for  himself. 

When  the  hermit  found  the  boy  so  eager  to  de- 
part, he  gave,  at  last,  a  reluctant  permission  ;  but  he 
warned  him  that  the  way  through  the  forest  was 
long  and  gloomy,  and  said  that  his  courage  would 
fail  in  that  lonely  and  dismal  journey. 

But  Rolph  would  listen  to  no  discouraging  fears. 
He  was  happy  in  having  obtained  permision  to  de- 
part, and  so  set  out  on  his  journey  with  a  joyous 
heart. 

The  hermit  accompanied  him  some  distance,  until 
they  came  to  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood,  then 
giving  Rolph  a  small  flask,  he  bade  him  fill  it  at  a  cer- 
tain fountain,  which  he  directed  him  where  to  find. 
The  water,  he  said,  was  pleasant  to  the  taste,  and 
possessed  many  valuable  qualities. 

If  drank  sparingly  it  would  lend  a  brightness  to 
his  path,  and  invest  the  objects  about  him  with  new 
and  peculiar  beauty.  But  if  indulged  in  to  excess, 
would  bewilder  and  mislead  him. 

He  warned  him,  also,  not  to  drink  of  the  waters 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  181 

unless  they  appeared  clear  and  sparkling ;  sometimes 
they  were  discolored,  and  then  their  effect  would  be 
to  envelope  his  pathway  in  still  deeper  gloom. 

After  giving  Rolph  many  charges,  and  much  good 
advice,  he  left  him,  and  the  boy  journeyed  on  alone. 

He  had  not  proceeded  far  before  he  heard  the 
pleasant  sound  of  falling  water,  and  hastening  for- 
ward, beheld  a  beautiful  fountain,  whose  bright  wa- 
ters fell  in  diamond  showers  upon  the  grass. 

Flowers  of  rich  and  varied  hues  grew  upon  its 
brink,  and  wherever  a  drop  of  the  sparkling  spray  fell, 
there  sprang  up  an  exquisite  blossom,  while  gorgeous 
and  ever  varying  rainbows  spanned  the  crystal  water, 
that  constantly  showered  its  wealth  of  diamond  mois- 
ture upon  the  luxuriant  turf. 

This  was  the  Diamond  Fountain  of  which  the  her- 
mit had  told  him,  and  Rolph  hastened  to  fill  his  flask, 
and  then  took  a  long  draught  of  the  delicious  water. 

No  sooner  had  he  done  so,  than  every  thing  about 
him  appeared  invested  with  new  beauty.  He  saw 
flowers  where  none  had  been  before,  and  heard  the 
sweet  singing  of  birds,  whose  melody  had  been 
hitherto  unheeded,  while  the  sun  himself  seemed 
to  shine  with  increased  glory. 

Rolph's  heart  beat  lightly— his  path  seemed  clear 
before  him,  and  flowers  sprang  up  at  every  step.     He 
even  fancied  he  could  see  the  tall  spires  of  a  great 
16 


182  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

city  far  in  the  distance,  and  was  sure  that  he  should 
encounter  no  obstacles  in  his  way. 

Filled  with  an  exhilarating  sense  of  happiness, 
he  wandered  on,  drinking  frequently  of  the  inspiring 
water,  until  he  emptied  his  flask. 

Inwardly  condemning  the  hermit  for  giving  him  so 
small  a  flask,  he  retraced  his  steps  to  the  Diamond 
♦  Fountain,  eager  to  refill  his  empty  flagon. 

He  reached  the  Diamond  water,  and  throwing 
himself  upon  the  turf  at  its  side,  drank  deeply  of  the 
inspiring  draught,  careless  and  forgetful  of  the  her- 
mit's warning  admonition. 

Soon  a  languor  and  inertness  stole  over  him ;  he 
felt  unable,  as  unwilling,  to  move  from  the  spot,  but 
surrendered  himself  entirely  to  the  delight  of  quaff- 
ing the  intoxicating  water,  and 'enjoying  the  bright 
visions  that  it  appeared  to  create. 

Thus  time  wore  on — day  faded  into  twilight — 
the  rainbows  no  more  spanned  the  sparkling  waters ; 
night  folded  her  mantle  of  shadows  over  all  the  earth, 
and  still  Rolph  lay  in  dreamy  unconsciousness  by  the 
side  of  the  Diamond  Fountain. 

Morning  dawned,  gloomy  and  cheerless,  and  Rolph 
rousing  himself  from  his  listlessness,  gazed  about 
him  bewildered  and  confused.  How  altered  was  the 
scene !  The  fountain  indeed  remained,  but  its  waters 
no  longer  sparkled  and  flashed  like  gems,  calling 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES.  183 

fresh  beauty  into  being  at  every  drop  that  fell.  They 
looked  dark  and  discolored  in  the  leaden  hue  of  the 
clouded,  threatening  sky,  and  the  flowers  upon  its 
brink  were  withered  and  scentless.  Rolph,  though 
startled  at  the  change,  thought  not  in  his  bewilder- 
ment of  the  hermit's  warning ;  he  eagerly  quaffed  the 
no  longer  sparkling  fountain,  thinking  that  its  influ- 
ence would  beautify  the  scene  about  him. 

As  his  lips  touched  the  water,  he  started  up  in 
affright;  it  was  inexpressibly  bitter  and  disagree- 
able. 

And  now  as  Rolph  gazed  tremblingly  around,  the 
bright  visions  that  had  delighted  him,  were  vanished. 
He  could  no  longer  distinguish  the  pathway  before 
him ; — about  and  beyond  spread  impenetrable  dark- 
ness and  gloom.  "With  a  cry  of  anguish,  the  unhappy 
Rolph  sprang  forward  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

But  he  reached  not  the  great  city,  neither  did  the 
hermit  ever  see  him  more. 


"  I  should  think  the  fountain  might  have  been 
filled  with  wine,  to  judge  by  its  effects,"  remarked 
Greorge,  as  Aunt  Elsie  ceased. 

"  Your  comparison  is  not  inapt,"  replied  the  old 
lady,  "  for  imagination,  like  wine,  gladdens  the  heart 
of  man;  but  if  indulged  in  to  excess,  often  leads  tc 


184  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

inevitable  ruin.  An  indulgence  in  the  vague  dreams 
of  imagination,  certainly  unfits  us  for  all  life's  higher 
duties,  and  makes  the  brightest  reality  seem  dull  and 
insipid.  While  a  morbid,  desponding  imagination, 
such  as  the  Diamond  Fountain  represents  beneath  a 
clouded  sky,  adds  new  gloom  to  every  trial,  and 
deepens  the  shadows  that  ever  fall  upon  the  path 
of  life." 

"I  think  I  understand  you,"  answered  Frank, 
thoughtfully;  "you  mean  that  it  is  sinful  to  waste 
time  in  vague  dreamings  that  should  be  devoted  to 
active  improvement,  and  I  shall  endeavor  to  profit  by 
Rolph's  example." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  little  Lily,  musingly,  "  why  it  is, 
that  all  Aunt  Elsie's  stories  seem  written  on  purpose 
for  us.  I  wish  we  could  hear  all  the  stories  in  that 
old  portfolio ;  I  am  sure  there  is  one  for  each." 

"  Wait  until  the  midsummer  holidays,  Lily,  and 
then  perhaps  your  wish  may  be  granted,"  replied 
Aunt  Elsie,  smiling.  "  There  are  many  more  stories 
in  the  old  portfolio,  that  I  hope  to  read  you  when  we 
all  assemble  together  once  more." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  delightful,"  cried  Clara-;  "  we 
will  rest  upon  that  promise  until  we  all  meet  again." 

"  What  a  short  vacation  this  has  been,"  said  No- 
rah,  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Quite  as  long  as  usual,"  replied  Charles  Carol ; 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  185 

"but  the  time  has  appeared  short,  because  it  has 
passed  so  pleasantly.  I  have  often  noticed  how  much 
longer  school  hours  seem  than  any  others." 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  copy  of  Aunt  Elsie's  stories,  which 
I  shrewdly  suspect  were  written  on  purpose  for  us,  as 
Lily  says,"  remarked  Greorge. 

"I  think,"  answered  Bertha,  "it  is  because  we 
each  wear  a  Wonderful  Watch,  that  we  so  readily  ap- 
ply Aunt  Elsie's  stories  to  ourselves." 

"  You  have  discovered  the  true  secret,  Bertha," 
said  Aunt  Elsie.  "  I  doubt  not  that  there  are  many 
little  people,  to  whom  these  stories  would  apply  with 
equal  force ;  and  I  shall  be  content  if  the  old  port- 
folio has  sent  forth  one  good  spirit,  whose  influence 
may  hereafter  warn,  or  guide  you  on  the  path  to  hap- 
piness." 

Dinah  now  appeared  at  the  door  with  lights,  and 
after  the  shutters  were  closed  in,  and  the  pale  cold 
moonbeam  shut  out,  the  children  clustered  in  groups 
about  the  table,  and  the  old  parlor  wore  again  its 
look  of  cheerful  coziness. 

After  tea,  a  few  young  friends  from  the  neigh- 
borhood came  in,  and  a  hearty  game  of  "  blind  man's 
buff,"  concluded  the  evening's  amusement. 


16' 


186  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  holidays  were  now  fast  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
only  two  days  remained  of  the  long  and  delightful 
vacation.  One  of  these  was  devoted  to  the  momentous 
business  of  packing  up  wardrobes,  and  making  all 
the  necessary  preparations  for  departure,  after  a  long 
visit. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  bustle  among  the 
young  guests,  and  much  searching  after  mislaid 
books  and  truant  drawing  pencils,  with  many  inqui- 
ries for  missing  tops,  and  mysterious  balls,  that 
seemed  to  vanish  just  when  most  sought  after.  Nu- 
merous stray  ribbons  and  forgotten  toys,  now  re- 
turned to  their  respective  owners,  and  wrapping 
paper  was  in  great  demand. 

It  was  a  very  busy  and  important  day  for  the 
little  people,  and  they  all  felt  tired  and  weary  when, 
their  arrangements  being  all  completed,  they  once 
more  assembled  in  the  old  parlor. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  187 

There  was  a  shade  of  sadness  on  each  young  face, 
as  they  thought  of  the  coming  separation,  and  dear 
Aunt  Elsie,  too,  looked  graver  than  usual,  as  her 
gaze  rested  fondly  on  the  bright  circle  which  sur- 
rounded her,  and.  she  thought  how  soon  its  links 
would  be  severed,  perhaps  never  to  unite  again. 

To-morrow  was  to  be  the  last  day,  and  even  to 
young,  gay  hearts,  that  single  word  "  the  last,"  has 
much  of  sorrow.  The  kind  Aunt  Elsie  was  unwil- 
ling that  the  long  holiday  should  end  in  gloom,  and 
so  had  made  preparations  for  a  juvenile  festival,  that 
was  to  deck  even  the  parting  hour  with  joyousness, 
as  the  glowing  sunset  sheds  a  brightness  on  the  day's 
farewell. 

The  party  was  to  take  place  on  the  following 
evening ;  and  all  the  young  people  for  miles  around 
had  been  invited  to  share  the  festivities. 

The  children  were  more  silent  than  usual,  and 
Aunt  Elsie,  rousing  herself  from  a  reverie,  said : 

"  You  are  very  quiet  to-night,  my  little  people ; 
are  you  wearied  with  your  day's  employment  ?" 

"  I  think  I  may  answer  that  we  all  feel  a  little 
tired,"  replied  Jessie  Lester,  "  and  a  little  sad  be- 
side." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  added  Lily,  "  very  sad,  and  very 
sorry  to  leave  you,  dear  Aunt  Elsie." 

"  But  it  will  not  do  to  feel  sad,  Lily,  on  the  last 


188  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

quiet  evening  that  we  shall  pass  together  for  very 
many  months,"  answered  Aunt  Elsie,  kindly  smiling, 
"  so  let  us  send  sadness  to  the  winds  while  we  in- 
dulge in  a  social  chat.  And  first,  are  all  your  prepa- 
rations completed,  and  is  there  nothing  mislaid  or 
forgotten  ?" 

"  Every  thing  is  done,  I  believe,"  replied  Clara, 
who,  with  Bertha  and  Grace,  had  superintended  the 
arrangements  of  the  younger  guests. 

"And  only  think,  Aunt  Elsie,  none  of  us  have 
lost  a  single  thing,"  exclaimed  Norah  Graham,  eager- 
ly ;  "  don't  we  deserve  credit  for  being  so  careful  ?" 

"  I  think  you  do,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady, 
cheerfully  ;  "  and  to  judge  by  the  shouts  of  laughter, 
that  penetrated  even  to  the  kitchen,  I  am  pretty 
certain  that  none  of  you  lost  your  magical  key,  even 
for  a  moment." 

"A  magical  key!  what  does  that  mean?"  cried 
several  voices. 

"  It  must  mean  a  trunk  key,"  cried  Ernest,  "  for 
I  am  very  sure  I  should  not  have  laughed  had  I  lost 


mine. 


"No,"  said  Aunt  Elsie,  laughing,  as  she  shook 
her  head.  "  that  is  not  it  at  all,  Ernest ;  you  must 
guess  again." 

"  I  cannot  guess  what  the  magical  key  is,  but  I 


FIRESIDE      FAIRIES  189 


think  I  know  where  to  find  it,"  whispered  little  Lily 
over  the  hack  of  Aunt  Elsie's  chair. 

"  May  I  get  the  old  portfolio,  and  let  you  see  if  it 
is  there,  Aunt  Elsie  ?" 

"  Oh.  yes,"  cried  Ernest,  who  had  overheard 
Lily's  request ;  "  please,  Aunt  Elsie,  read  us  one 
more  story  as  a  farewell." 

His  request  was  warmly  seconded  by  the  little 
group,  and  Aunt  Elsie  premising  that  the  story  was 
but  a  short  one,  and  bidding  her  auditors  listen  atten- 
tively, as  she  should  expect  the  explanation  from 
them,  drew  a  small  stand  near  her,  and  read  the 
story  of 


€\t  3$itgtntl  tu\ 


Little  Eva  was  a  merry,  happy-hearted  child,  who 
did  nothing  but  dance  and  sing  from  morning  until 
night.  She  was  quite  young,  and  unable  to  give 
much  assistance  to  her  mother,  who  was  but  a  poor 
woman,  and  lived  in  a  rude  little  cottage  just  off  from 
the  road. 

Eva  was  very  willing  to  do  all  that  she  could,  to 
be  sure,  but  that  was  very  little ;  and  as  she  saw  her 
mother  toiling  all  day,  she  often  wondered  when  she 
should  get  old  enough  to  assist  her. 


190  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

It  chanced  one  morning,  as  she  started  very  early 
to  get  a  little  milk  for  breakfast,  that  she  espied 
something  bright,  shining  in  the  grass.  She  hastily 
picked  it  up,  and  saw  that  it  was  a  small  golden  key, 
curiously  wrought.  Delighted  with  her  prize,  she 
ran  home  to  her  mother.  The  good  woman  esteemed 
the  finding  of  the  key  as  a  lucky  omen,  and  carefully 
hung  it  about  Eva's  neck,  charging  her  never  to  part 
with  it. 

From  that  day,  Eva  never  removed  the  key  from 
its  resting  place  in  her  bosom.  She  was  always 
cheerful  and  contented,  there  was  but  one  thing  that 
preyed  upon  her  mind.  She  frequently  heard  her 
mother  wish  for  happiness,  and  in  her  childish  sim- 
plicity revolved  a  thousand  ways  by  which  to  attain 
this  coveted  good. 

One  very  cold  day,  as  she  sped  over  the  frozen 
ground  with  her  threadbare  cloak,  and  well-worn 
shoes;  that  scarce  served  to  keep  her  little  feet  from 
the  snow,  she  saw  a  very  old  woman  sitting  wearily 
by  the  wayside,  with  her  head  bowed  down  on  her 
clasped  hands.  She  was  poorly  clad,  and  seemed 
very  feeble. 

Eva  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  old  woman,  and  ap- 
proaching her,  said  softly : 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dame ?  can  I  help  you?" 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  191 

The  poor  old  woman  looked  up,  when  the  child 


"  I  am  very  weary,"  she  answered,  feebly,  "  and 
have  a  long  way  to  go ;  but  I  cannot  walk  alone,  I  am 
not  able." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  Eva,  quickly ;  "  you  do 
not  look  very  heavy,  and  I  think  I  can  support  you  if 
you  lean  on  me.  Though.  I  am  little,  I  am  pretty 
strong." 

1  "  You  are  a  good  child,"  replied  the  old  woman, 
as  with  Eva's  assistance  she  rose  from  her  seat  on 
the  bank ;"  but  I  walk  so  slowly,  you  will  perish  with 
the  cold." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  me,"  said  the  little  girl,  cheer- 
fully ;  "  I  am  used  to  the  cold,  and  can  spare  you  my 
cloak  too,  good  dame,  for  you  need  a  warmer  cover- 
ing." 

So  saying,  she  threw  her  own  scanty  mantle  upon 
the  aged  stranger's  shoulders,  and  carefully  assisted 
her  feeble  steps  as  she  tottered  over  the  frozen 
ground. 

As  they  went  on,  Eva  told  the  simple  story  of  her 
mother's  poverty,  and  her  own  eagerness  to  assist  her. 
The  old  woman  listened  attentively,  and  after  they 
had  walked  some  distance,  she  complained  of  fatigue, 
and  sat  down  upon  a  bank  to  rest. 

As  Eva  placed  herself  at  her  feet,  the  aged  dame 


192  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

drew  from  beneath  her  faded  cloak  a  small  casket, 
which  she  handed  to  Eva,  saying  : 

"  You  deserve  a  reward  for  your  kindness,  and 
this  is  all  I  have  to  give  ;  there  are  some  things 
in  this  casket  that  may  be  useful  to  you,  if  you  are 
ever  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  key  to  fit  it." 

Eva  was  unwilling  to  take  the  box,  but  the  old 
woman  pressed  it  upon  her  ;  and  when  the  little  girl 
found  that  she  was  resolute  in  desiring  her  to  accept 
it,  she  remembered  her  golden  key,  and  hastened  to 
try  if  it  would  fit  the  lock. 

No  sooner  had  she  turned  the  key,  than  the  lid  of 
the  casket  flew  open,  and  she  beheld  within,  a  small 
mirror,  a  slender  staff,  a  leathern  belt  curiously  in- 
wrought, and  a  silver  lamp  of  dazzling  brightness. 

Eva  did  not  know  the  use  of  these  things,  but 
was  delighted  with  their  novelty.  She  looked  up  to 
thank  the  old  woman,  and  beheld  in  her  stead,  a 
beautiful  lady. 

She  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  but  the 
beautiful  lady  smiled  kindly,  and  said : 

"  You  behold  me  now  in  my  true  form,  Eva,  and 
as  you  have  proved  yourself  worthy,  I  desire  to  be- 
nefit you.    Wish  what  you  will,  it  shall  be  granted." 

Eva  would  probably  have  felt  embarrassed  at  this 
address,  had  not  the  recollection  of  her  mother's  wish 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  193 

for  happiness  been  ever  present  to  her  mind.     She 
therefore  answered : 

"  I  wish  to  find  happiness." 

"  Happiness,"  replied  the  strange  lady,  with  a 
bright  smile,  "  dwells  in  the  castle  of  peace ;  you  are 
on  the  road  to  her  dwelling  now,  but  will  have  many 
difficulties  to  surmount  ere  you  reach  it.  It  is  a  long 
and  dangerous  journey.  Do  you  feel  able  to  under- 
take it  ?" 

"  I  am  able  and  willing  to  do  any  thing  to  pro- 
cure the  happiness  for  which  my  mother  constantly 
sighs,"  answered  Eva. 

"  Well,  then,  listen  to  me,"  said  the  lady.  "  The 
key  which  you  wear  will  unlock  the  enchanted  castle 
gate  where  happiness  dwells,  as  readily  as  it  did  this 
casket ;  and  I  may  tell  you,  that  without  that  key 
these  gifts  would  have  been  of  little  value  to  you ; 
now  they  are  inestimable." 

So  saying,  she  took  the  leathern  belt,  and  hang- 
ing the  mirror  upon  it,  clasped  it  about  Eva's  waist, 
and  said : 

"  While  you  wear  this  girdle,  you  will  be  endowed 
with  strength  to  fulfil  your  undertaking ;  and  when- 
ever you  are  in  doubt  which  way  to  go,  look  in  this 
mirror,  it  will  point  out  your  path." 

She  then  gave  Eva  the  lamp,  and  placing  the  staff 
in  her  hand,  continued : 
17 


194  FIRESIDE      FAIRIES. 

"  This  staff  will  support  your  steps  when  weary, 
and  the  lamp  will  light  your  path.  Gro  onward,  and  do 
not  fear  the  enemies  who  will  present  themselves  ; 
armed  as  you  are,  you  can  overcome  them  all.  When 
you  reach  the  castle  its  gates  will  open  at  the  touch 
of  your  key,  and  happiness  then  reward  you  for  all 
you  have  undergone." 

Little  Eva  felt  awed  at  the  importance  and  no- 
velty of  her  position ;  she  bent  her  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  and  when  she  raised  them,  the  lady  had  dis- 
appeared. 

Eva  looked  upon  her  precious  gifts,  and  went  re- 
solutely forward.  She  felt  strong,  and  able  to  perform- 
the  task. 

The  way  was  very  desolate,  the  snow  laid  deep 
upon  the  path,  and  the  leafless  branches  sighed  in 
the  wind.  Still  Eva  toiled  patiently  on,  through  the 
drifted  snow-banks,  and  over  the  frozen  brooks.  She 
had  but  one  thought,  to  reach  the  castle  of  happiness 
and  obtain  her  gifts  for  her  mother. 

The  little  girl  came  at  length  to  a  point  from 
which  two  roads  diverged.  One  appeared  decked  in 
the  beauty  and  foliage  of  summer,  the  other  was 
bleak  and  dreary.  At  the  entrance  of  the  beautiful 
path  stood  a  graceful  youth  who  invited  Eva  to  take 
that  road,  saying  it  was  the  shortest  way  to  the  cas- 
tle of  happiness.     Eva  hesitated  an  instant,  then  re- 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  195 

cnembering  the  beautiful  lady's  injunction,  looked 
into  the  mirror,  and  beheld  the  dreary  road  reflected 
there ;  at  the  same  time  she  saw  that  the  pleasant 
path  was  filled  with  snares  and  pitfalls,  while  the 
youth's  features  appeared  hideous  and  distorted.  Eva 
turned  unhesitatingly  into  the  dreary  path,  and 
swiftly  sped  along. 

As  she  went,  the  way  seemed  dark  before  her, 
and  then  her  silver  lamp  emitted  a  brilliant  light 
that  cheered  her  weary  steps. 

Many  were  the  obstacles  she  had  to  encounter. 
She  was  stopped  on  her  way  by  a  large  gate,  at  which 
stood  a  dark  man,  who  demanded  toll ;  but  Eva 
applied  her  magical  key  to  the  lock,  and  it  flew  open 
before  her. 

'  Often  she  was  beset  by  forms,  who  whispered  her 
of  the  terrible  difficulties  she  would  meet  upon  her 
path,  but  she  leaned  firmly  upon  her  staff,  and  as  she 
saw  the  silver  beam  from  the  lamp  she  bore,  shining 
far  before  her,  she  went  on  cheered  and  comforted. 

Many  were  the  snares  she  escaped  by  consulting 
her  faithful  mirror,  and  the  difficulties  she  overcame 
by  leaning  upon  her  staff,  while  the  belt  she  wore 
endued  her  with  fresh  vigor,  and  the  magical  key 
opened  every  gate  before  her. 

At  length  she  was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  turrets 


196  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

of  the  castle  rising  before  her.  and  with  a  cry  of  joy 
she  sprang  forward  and  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

She  found  herself  surrounded  by  a  noisy  group, 
each  one  offering  to  procure  her  ingress  to  the  castle ; 
but  Eva  remembered  that  her  precious  gifts  had 
brought  her  safely  through  many  trials,  and  she 
needed  no  other  assistance  now. 

With  an  eager,  trembling  hand,  she  applied  her 
golden  key — the  gates  flew  open,  and  in  a  moment 
she  found  herself  within  the  court  of  the  castle,  and 
clasped  in  the  arms  of  the  beautiful  stranger. 

Need  it  be  told  that  one  so  firm  and  faithful  in 
the  search  after  happiness,  was  equally  just  and  gen- 
erous in  dispensing  her  gifts  when  obtained,  and  that 
ever  after,  Eva  dwelt  with  her  mother  in  the  valley  of 
peace,  and  was  known  as  the  favorite  child  of  Happi- 


Aunt  Elsie  closed  the  manuscript,  and  looked 
inquiringly  around. 

"  And  now  I  want  your  explanation  of  my  little 
story,"  she  said. 

"  I  think  the  mirror  which  Eva  possessed  must  have 
been  Truth,"  said  May  Lester,  as  Aunt  Elsie's  glance 
rested  upon  her. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


197 


"And  the  form  that  tempted  her  into  another 
path  was,  perhaps,  Falsehood,"  added  her  sister  Jessie. 

"Eva's  staff  was  Faith,  of  course,"  continued 
Grace,  "  as  it  supported  her  through  all  her  trials." 

"  I  thought  the  lamp  represented  Faith,"  said 
Mary  Parker,  «  but  the  staff  is  more  appropriate  ;  the 
lamp  then  must  he  Hope,  that  shed  a  light  over  her 
path,  and  so  enabled  her  to  persevere,  despite  the 
Fears  that  endeavored  to  discourage  her.  Is  it  not  so, 
Aunt  Elsie?" 
•   Aunt  Elsie  assented. 

"You  have  denned  it  very  well  thus  far,"  she 
said,  "  but  all  is  not  explained  yet." 

"No,"  cried  Willie  Graham,  "we  have  not  yet 
discovered  what  the  magical  key  was." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Harry  Wilder,  in  his  droll  way; 
"  we  have  seen  Eva  fairly  started  on  the  road  to  Hap- 
piness with  the  mirror  of  Truth,  the  staff  of  Faith, 
and  lamp  of  Hope,  to  assist  her ;  what  other  gifts  did 
the  fairy  give  her  ?  Oh,  I  remember,  an  embroidered 
belt ;  what  could  that  have  been  ?" 

"  Endurance,  perhaps,"  suggested  George. 

"  Or  rather  Perseverance,  which  seems  a  more  ac- 
tive quality,"  added  Frank. 

"  Very  likely,"  cried  Lucy  Parker,  "  for  you  know 
patience  and  perseverance  conquer  all  obstacles.     I 
17# 


198  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

have  written  that  copy  so  often,  that  I  begin  to  be- 
lieve it  is  true." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  who  the  dark  man  at  the 
gate  could  be,  but  I  cannot  make  it  out,"  said  Charles 
Carrol. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  111  Humor,"  suggested  Clara. 

"  And  the  crowd  at  the  palace  gates  were  Strifes, 
Envyings,  and  Pride,"  added  Bertha,  with  an  appeal- 
ing look  towards  Aunt  Elsie. 

The  old  lady  smiled,  and  said  : 

"  All  very  right  thus  far ;  a«d  now  for  the  magi- 
cal key,  that  so  materially  influenced  Eva's  fortune." 

"  The  magical  key  !"  cried  Norah ;  "  what  could 
it  have  been  V 

"  I  have  it !"  exclaimed  Ernest,  exultingly ;  "  I 
have  found  it;  the  magical  key  was  Good  Tem- 
per." 

"  You  have  found  it,  indeed,"  said  Aunt  Elsie, 
approvingly ;  "  and  as  you  possess  it  beside,  Ernest, 
I  hope  you  will  remember  and  prize  its  valuable  qua- 
lities." 

"  Nobody  has  told  who  the  fairy  means,"  chimed 
in  little  Lily ;  "  but  I  know, — it  is  Aunt  Elsie  her- 
self." 

"  Not  exactly,  my  dear,"  replied  Aunt  Elsie,  kind- 
ly;  "because  I  have  not  the  power  to  endow  you 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  199 

with  the  precious  gifts  that  Eva  possessed.  I  can 
only  pray  that  the  Giver  of  all  good  may  bestow 
them  upon  you ;  and  shall  be  happy  if  through  me 
you  have  learned  one  truth,  which  may  assist  you  to 
wall  securely  in  the  path  that  alone  leads  to  peace  in 
this  present  life,  and  happiness  hereafter. 


200  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  morning  of  the  last  holiday  dawned  bright  and 
clear,  and  the  little  folks  were  up  betimes,  and  soon 
busily  engaged  in  preparations  for  the  evening. 

Each  had  her  peculiar  duty  assigned  her ;  the  elder 
girls  assisted  in  preparing  the  refreshments  and  ar- 
ranging the  room,  while  the  younger  ones  felt  very 
important,  cutting  motto  papers  and  polishing  lady 
apples,  until  their  ripe  red  cheeks  rivalled  their  own. 

The  boys,  under  the  superintendence  of  Harry 
Wilder,  were  engaged  in  decorating  a  small  room  off 
the  parlor,  with  Christmas  greens. 

This  little  apartment  was  Aunt  Elsie's  private 
sitting  room,  but  on  this  occasion  was  to  be  thrown 
open  for  the  accommodation  of  the  juvenile  guests. 
The  preparations  were  completed  at  an  early  hour, 
and  the  young  people  retired  to  rest  a  little  while,  be- 
fore dressing  for  the  evening. 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  201 

After  all  had  gone  up  stairs  except  Bertha  and 
Harry  Wilder,  who  remained  with  Aunt  Elsie,  Harry 
assisted  by  the  willing  Dinah,  carried  an  immense 
green  branch  into  the  little  room  which  the  boys  had 
decorated,  and  propped  it  firmly  upon  a  low  platform 
that  had  been  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment. 
Aunt  Elsie  and  Bertha  remained  within  some  time, 
and  then  Aunt  Elsie  left  the  room  for  a  moment,  and 
Bertha  swiftly  running  up  stairs,  returned  with  a 
parcel  carried  very  carefully,  which  she  placed  in  the 
apartment,  and  then  locking  the  door,  hastened  up 
stairs  to  join  her  companions. 

Aunt  Elsie  had  requested  the  young  people  to  as- 
semble in  the  parlor,  an  hour  before  the  expected 
arrival  of  their  guests,  and  accordingly  at  the  stated 
time  the  happy  group  entered  the  room,  and  were  re- 
ceived by  Aunt  Elsie  herself. 

What  a  pleasant  picture  it  was ;  the  comfortable 
parlor  with  its  quaint  old-fashioned  furniture  now  pol- 
ished into  more  than  ordinary  lustre,  so  brilliantly 
illuminated  by  groups  of  tall  wax  candles,  disposed 
tastefully  about  the  room  in  candlesticks  entwined 
with  evergreens,  and  the  light  falling  brightly  on  the 
fair  young  faces  and  graceful  forms  that  clustered 
about  Aunt  Elsie. 

The  dear  old  lady  was  a  picture  by  herself,  in  her 


202  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

stately  dress  of  rich  black  satin ;  the  plain  lace  cap, 
with  the  border  clinging  closely  about  her  benevolent 
and  still  handsome  face ;  and  the  fine;  clear  muslin 
kerchief,  whose  fleecy  folds  peeped  above  the  neck  of 
her  dress,  and  were  confined  at  the  throat  by  a  brooch 
of  jet. 

After  the  little  folks  had  all  passed  in  review  be- 
fore Aunt  Elsie,  and  received  many  kind  words  of 
commendation,  she  made  a  sign  to  Harry  Wilder, 
who  threw  open  the  door  leading  to  the  small  room, 
and  with  a  cry  of  surprised  delight,  the  children 
sprang  forward. 

A  brilliant  and  unexpected  sight  burst  upon  them. 
The  ingenuity  of  the  boys  had  converted  the  little 
room  into  a  perfect  bower  of  Christmas  greens,  and 
tapers  had  been  arranged  among  the  branches  so  as 
to  cast  a  bright  radiance  throughout  the  apartment. 
In  the  centre  of  the  room,  upon  a  raised  platform, 
stood  a  tall  Christmas  tree,  the  branches  of  which 
were  laden  with  gifts  for  each  member  of  the  party. 

The  presents  were  very  tastefully  arranged  by 
Bertha  Carrol,  to  whom  Aunt  Elsie  had  confided  the 
secret ;  and  very  beautiful  the  tree  appeared,  bowed 
down  beneath  the  weight  of  aiFectionate  tributes  that 
it  bore. 

There  was  a  label  on  each  bough,  with  the  name 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  203 

of  the  one  for  whom  the  gifts  were  intended.  The 
lower  branches  held  those  of  the  smaller  children, 
that  they  might  have  the  pleasure  of  plucking  this 
curious  fruit  themselves,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  mark 
the  joy  that  lighted  each  young  face  as  they  succes- 
sively carried  away  some  coveted  or  beautiful  article. 

The  gifts  were  all  distributed  at  last  amid  excla- 
mations of  delight,  when  Bertha  Carrol,  who  presided 
as  mistress  of  the  ceremonies,  said  : 

"  Here  is  one  bough  yet  unclaimed,  the  very  top- 
most of  all ;  it  must  be  for  you,  Aunt  Elsie,  since 
we  are  all  supplied  Will  you  please  look  if  it  bears 
your  name  ?" 

Aunt  Elsie  good-naturedly  stepped  upon  the  plat- 
form and  read  the  label.  There,  sure  enough,  was 
written  in  delicate  characters, 

"  For  our  dear  Aunt  Elsie." 

The  old  lady  smilingly  relieved  the  bough  of  its 
burden,  and  received  in  her  hands  an  elegantly  woven 
basket  filled  with  testimonials  of  affection  from  each 
of  her  young  guests. 

There  was  a  gold  pencil  case,  a  pair  of  embroid- 
ered slippers,  knit  woollen  wristlets,  lamp  mats,  an 
embroidered  spectacle  case,  containing  a  pair  of  gold 
spectacleSj  with  her  name  engraved  thereon,  and 
many  other  articles  equally  tasteful  and  appropriate. 


204  FIRESIDE     FAIRIES. 

And  while  Aunt  Elsie  gratified  the  little  people  by 
praising  each  article  in  turn,  they  insisted  upon 
her  guessing  who  had  made  the  several  gifts,  and 
were  delighted  at  her  inability  to  distinguish  the 
donors. 

The  hour  passed  rapidly  away,  and  now  the  in- 
vited guests  arrived.  The  rooms  were  soon  filled 
with  happy  groups,  and  the  sports  of  the  evening 
commenced  in  earnest. 

There  was  much  merriment,  and  many  hearty 
bursts  of  laughter  as  the  children  entered  with  eager- 
ness into  the  old-fashioned  games,  so  productive  of 
harmless  mirth.  There  was  dancing  too,  and  Aunt 
Elsie  herself  led  off  the  cheerful  country  dance,  to  the 
no  small  delight  of  the  young  party. 

But  amid  all  the  unrestrained  joyousness  of  the 
evening,  nothing  like  rudeness  occurred  to  mar  its 
harmony.  Aunt  Elsie  moved  about  with  cheerful, 
quiet  kindness,  seeing  that  all  were  equally  happy, 
and  Dinah's  smiling  face  was  constantly  seen  among 
the  guests,  as  she  tendered  the  refreshments,  and 
evidently  enjoyed  the  glad  scene  about  her. 

The  festivities  were  prolonged  until  a  late  hour, 
when  the  invited  guests  dispersed  to  their  own  homes ; 
and  after  the  last  good-night  kiss  had  been  pressed  up- 
on the  brows  of  her  own  little  people,  Aunt  Elsie  looked 


FIRESIDE     FAIRIES.  205 

about  the  now  deserted  room  with  a  sigh  of  regret, 
as  she  thought  how  many  months  must  elapse  ere 
again  it  would  be  enlivened  by  her  beloved  group  of 
Fireside  Fairies. 


THE   END. 


18 


